


Do You Ever Cry When We Waste Away Our Lives?

by cuteharrie (ughholmesandwatson)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel Louis, Angst, Blow Jobs, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Harry Styles, POV Louis Tomlinson, POV Multiple, Solo Artist Harry, Wet Dream, angel!louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-06 18:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5427203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ughholmesandwatson/pseuds/cuteharrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's life is nothing like how he imagined it would be when he won the X Factor five years ago. Suffocated by his management and label, Harry is slowly beginning to fade, his spark, soul and faith drifting away from him. However, his faith is not ready to give up on him in the form of Louis, an angel sent down from heaven to help him get back on track.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's A Long Way Down

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this post](http://the-cheshire-pussy-cat.tumblr.com/post/132480577387/since-he-was-eighteen-but-louis-with-a-back), so thank you to [@the-cheshire-pussy-cat](http://the-cheshire-pussy-cat.tumblr.com/) and [@since-he-was-eighteen](http://since-he-was-eighteen.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Big thank you to [Kiki](http://nopieceofpaperfromthecityhall.tumblr.com/) & [Maria](http://louiest.tumblr.com/) for being amazing betas.
> 
> Come and find me on tumblr: [rosegoldcreature](http://www.rosegoldcreature.tumblr.com)
> 
>  

_Harry feels like he can’t breathe. Everything is intense right now - the lights, the thudding music that is pulsing in time with his heartbeat, the stares from the audience, the steady presence of Simon next to him. He looks around the studio, at his rival, and he looks just as nervous as him. They give each other a knowing look, a show of support. The atmosphere is thick with nerves and anticipation, and Harry feels like he may faint if Dermot keeps them on edge, waiting, for any longer. It feels like everything has been leading up to this moment, this one opportunity that could change his life forever. Harry closes his eyes and finally the silence is broken, the words “Harry Styles!” darting out of Dermot’s mouth. Harry feels his whole body go numb and then within seconds he feels like he is floating above the crowd, every emotion rushing through him in a fight to get control over his body. He can feel the grin on his face, the excitement buzzing through his veins but as he looks to the crowd, quickly he realises that he’s the only one._

_No one else is smiling._

_In fact, the audience is silent, still, staring coldly at the stage. Dermot is looking at him too, his face void of any emotion. It’s confusing. Harry knows everyone should be cheering, shouting his name. Simon should be grabbing him, pulling him in for a celebratory hug, the runner up telling him he deserves it, that he’s amazing and they’re happy for him. But all he feels is Simon’s hand securing a grip on his wrist and then he’s being pulled, tugged off the stage, a cold and suffocating feeling settling over him like an ocean wave dragging him out to sea._

_“We need to get your agreement signed. You mustn’t speak until this is all confirmed. Do you understand?” Simon’s voice is cold and he’s not even looking at Harry, just staring straight ahead down the corridor that they’ve turned into. There's no lighting, just darkness that stretches on in front of them. Harry tries to free his wrist but Simon’s grip is vice like, digging into the flesh._

_“I don’t…. what is going on? I don’t understand...” Harry is panicking now, dread seeping into every part of his body and his voice is small as panic restricts around his throat. He’s just won the X Factor, but he’s being treated like a prisoner and he doesn’t get it. All he wants right now is to see his mum, ask her what the hell is going on, but his mum isn’t here. He’s alone, and suddenly they’ve come to an abrupt stop, Simon spinning to look at him, towering over him._

_“This is where your journey begins Harry,” he sneers, his face twisting into an ugly smile, and Harry hates it, wants to close his eyes and cower away. “You’re going to sign your life away just so you can be famous, have girls all over you…” Simon pauses, his eyebrow twitching as a smirk stretches across his face. “…and they will be girls, just so you know. That’s another part of yourself that you’re going to have to lock away for a very long time. The media won’t like you if you’re gay Harry. This is just the beginning of your transformation. Enjoy.” And with that, the door swings open and he’s being dragged into the room, darkness enveloping him, hands grabbing at him, his mouth covered by clammy fingers…._

_(April 2015)_

Harry’s woken suddenly by a piercing scream and it takes him a few seconds of heavy breathing to realise that the noise came from him. Sweat is dripping down his temples, his 3 day old t-shirt clinging to his back. He looks around the room and realises he fell asleep on his couch again, his neck sore from being held at an odd angle against the cushions.

He pulls himself up onto his elbows before letting his legs slide onto the floor, his head dropping into his hands. He sighs, letting his heart rate settle into a more steady beat, his brain reminding itself over and over that _it’s just a dream_. It’s the same dream he’s being having for the last 6 months, playing over and over until he’s almost terrified to close his eyes and fall asleep. So he drinks. He drinks to forget the dream and drinks to take away the fear. He drinks to smother the feeling of loneliness and he drinks to numb the persistent threat of depression. 

There’s a slither of light peeking through the curtains which tells Harry that he probably fell asleep early in the morning, and the flashing clock on the oven, which he can see through the open plan living room and kitchen, confirms this. It’s half 8 in the morning, (so he's got about 2 hours sleep) not that that means anything to Harry right now. Seconds, minutes, hours and days have been blending into one another recently, and he’s lost track of time to the point that he never knows what day it is. He grabs the bottle of whisky that’s sat half empty on his coffee table and refills the glass that he had filled and emptied numerous times the night before. It doesn’t even touch the sides any more as it goes down, warming his chest and hitting his empty stomach. Harry knows it’s pointless. Knows that as soon as he sobers up again, everything will come crashing down around him, making him feel claustrophobic. Everything feels pointless now. 

It wasn’t always like this. Harry used to be an outgoing and confident boy with a dream of singing to millions and having people sing his songs back at him. That dream had spurred him on to audition for the X Factor and he had flown through the audition, Simon giving him a knowing smile when the whole auditorium had stood up and sang along with the cute 16 year old from Cheshire, his brown curls and dimpled smile capturing everyone’s hearts. Harry should have been wary of that smile, but he took it as a compliment. Simon Cowell was as big as it got, the one person who Harry was desperate to impress. Fast forward a few months, and there he was, falling into an emotional hug with none other than Simon Cowell, his whole world opening into the exciting prospect of being the winner of the X Factor. His dream had literally come true.

It only took a few months before Harry realised that maybe his dream wasn’t exactly what he had expected it to be. He was told immediately that his sexuality would be better kept a secret. He was also made to sign a record deal, that tied him to Syco for 5 albums, unless they wanted to end the deal sooner. It was all pushed through rather quickly, made clear that this was something that everyone had to do before they began to make music, and Harry swallowed it, his naivety making him gullible and easy to persuade. From then on his every move was calculated and directed. He was set up with “girlfriends”, told what he could and couldn’t write about in his music, and directed to follow a certain sound that Harry wasn’t all that inspired by. He felt trapped and smothered, but he went along with it, telling himself over and over that this was just the compromise of being a pop star, that it would get better.

It didn’t.

Nearly five years on from winning the talent show, and Harry is unrecognisable. His unwashed, long hair is always tied up in a messy bun, tendrils of hair falling onto his sharp cheekbones, the circles under his eyes casting grave shadows across his face. He hardly moves from his couch, doesn’t shower or change his clothes. He isn’t eating either, his jaw sharply jutting out and his ribs starting to protrude. Harry hasn’t spoken to his family for weeks and really that is the biggest, most telling change in the young man. His family were his life, especially his mum and sister, the two people he loved and cared about the most. The two people whom he could always rely on and trust to have his best interests at heart - and they still did, even after all the pushing and avoiding Harry has done, and really, you can't blame them for giving up a little. There's only so many times you can ring and knock on the door to be told to go away. His friends had given up on him too, his phone alerting him less and less to missed calls or texts. He stays in his luxury flat 99% of the time, watching re runs of shows he has no interest in or staring at a blank notepad that he begs to magically fill with lyrics. His creativity is non existent and with the pressure of needing an album ready in the next 6 months, Harry feels like he is being bled dry. His management and label don’t care about how he feels. They don’t care that he is having daily anxiety attacks, that he is drinking so much that he blacks out, missing whole days. 

In fact, there is little left to recognise Harry by, the light behind his eyes just a dim flicker that threatens to go out all together, and this is exactly how Louis sees him for the first time, his bright blue eyes fixated on the saddest looking human he's ever seen. 

A flame about to be extinguished.


	2. Hey Angel...

_(April 2015)_

Louis blinks, trying to understand exactly what it is that he’s seeing. He’s an angel you see, a heavenly being, a messenger of God. He’s used to his duties, remaining loyal and trustworthy to his family. He understands heaven and the magical way in which every angel has a different version. He even understands God, his father and his leader and all the choices he makes. However, his view right now? He doesn’t understand that at all. 

God had briefly explained to Louis that he had a new mission for him, something a little different to anything he had done before. Initially, Louis had nodded and listened, wanting to seem willing and keen to take on a new task, but now his brow is furrowed into a frown, his head swimming with the question: “Why would you pick me?”

“His name is Harry,” God begins, as if sensing the confusion that must be rolling off of Louis, his deep voice echoes through the forest in which Louis is sat. 

This is Louis’ version of heaven; open woodland, spanning for miles and miles, the trees the brightest green you’ve ever seen and the birds chirping unseen, high in the sky. In the centre of the forest stands a small hut which is surrounded by logs and a camp fire. The hut is made from wood, vines lazily draped over the walls and across the roof, allowing the hut to fit perfectly into the background. Louis has little furniture, just cushions and blankets and soft lighting. He also has lots of books that Zayn, his older brother, has collected for him over the years from his many visits to earth and they are haphazardly stacked in piles around his home. He loves reading, immersing himself in someone else's story, trying to understand the situations and emotions that the humans in the stories are experiencing. He thinks it's really quite magical. 

Louis has never wished for anything more, knowing only that his heaven is perfect for what he needs. The sun is beaming down on them both now, the sky a clear blue and Louis isn’t sure if it’s the heat or the impending panic of not feeling comfortable with this proposition that’s making him feel a little weak. 

“He’s a human who is destined for something very great," God continues. "I could see that in him from the moment he was born. He’s special, Louis. He’s got the potential to inspire and touch a lot of people, but he’s fallen recently, not from any fault of his own.”

Louis’ turns to God, his frown deepening. He’d never heard God speak of someone like this before and not blame them even partly for their situation. It makes Louis wonder what exactly has happened to this human to make him so sad and so worthy of God’s help to make him better.

“He’s a singer, a celebrity,” God explains, never tearing his eyes away from the vision of Harry sat on his sofa. “He won a talent competition 4 years ago and since then he has been confined and restricted by those who should be caring for and protecting him. I want you, Louis, to go to earth and help him. I trust that you will be able to guide Harry and help him to see the light again. Do you think you can do that?”

God’s words hang heavy in the air and the angel feels like he’s choking on them. Louis honestly doesn’t know the answer to that question and that terrifies him. He’s good, brilliant in fact, at his heavenly duties but he’s never been to Earth. Not once. Zayn normally takes on those kind of missions, his knowledge of the human race exceeds that of any other angel in Heaven. Louis turns to God to question him but he’s stopped by God’s voice, his mouth hanging slightly open. 

“It is your turn Louis. I have picked you for this mission because it is your time to go to earth and make a difference. I believe in you.” God gives him a warm smile and Louis can’t say no, it’s as simple as that. He has complete faith in God, knows that every choice he makes is the right one and he would trust God with his life. So he nods once, turning back to the vision of Harry. He’s seen many visions of humans before, and he’s read about every emotion he can think of in his books, but there’s something different about this one. The boy’s head is in his hands and he looks empty, his aura that Louis should be able to see is non existent and Louis silently promises to bring back Harry’s light if it’s the last thing he does.

________

It’s a dreary Monday morning… or maybe it’s Tuesday. Harry’s lost count over the last few days and he could quite easily have missed a whole day considering the hangover he’s suffering through right now. He’d woken up on the floor about ten minutes ago, his hand still raised, propped up on the sofa and his face smushed into the rug. It wasn’t pretty, or comfortable, but Harry didn’t have the energy or will to lift himself up until now, his whole body creaking with the achiness of passing out on a wooden floor. He runs his hands over his face before pushing himself up, his balance off, making him wobble on his long legs. He pads into the kitchen, running himself a cold glass of water, the liquid trailing a soothing path down his throat.

He takes a breath, and then another before putting the glass on the side. Walking back to the sofa, he spots the notepad on the coffee table, the empty bottle of whiskey toppled over it’s pages, droplets of the alcohol soaked into the empty page that it’s fallen onto. Harry bites on his bottom lip, considering if it’s even worth his effort to go over, pick up the bottle and the notepad.

“Fuck it…” he mumbles to himself, throwing himself back down on the sofa and grabbing the notepad and pen before he can talk himself out of it.

He looks at the pages, a few scribbles and doodles etched into the corners. The pages stare back at him blankly, reflecting the feeling of complete shutdown in Harry’s mind. He can’t even begin to think about how he’s feeling, let alone write a song that could be released on a successful album. It’s been weeks and weeks since Harry has been able to write anything worth keeping, and he feels himself getting more and more frustrated as he tries to force something that just isn't there.

A sudden knock at his front door makes him jump and the notepad skitters across the wooden floor, the pen following it. Harry’s head whips around to the door, his eyes wide and he can feel his heart rate doubling in speed just at the thought of someone being at his door. He bites down on his tongue, trying to keep himself quiet. The knock comes again but louder this time and quicker, the person behind it obviously not taking no for an answer. Harry screws his eyes shut, and he can feel it start to creep under his skin, the anxiety draping over him like an itchy blanket. 

“G… go away!” He tries to shout, but his voice is broken and he’s not sure that it’s travelled all the way through the room to the person on the other side. He holds his breath and waits for the knock again but nothing comes. Silence. Pure, blissful silence, and he feels his whole body relax as the seconds continue uninterrupted. He falls back into the couch, a small whimper escaping his lips as his body begins to calm.

The calm only last for a few seconds.

“Hello.”

Harry screams, literally screams and it crosses his mind that it’s identical to the scream that has been waking him up from his fitful sleep the last few weeks. That thought comes and goes though as his eyes flicker up in horror at the man who is now stood in front of him. He’s small, a few inches shorter than Harry, but his whole presence screams authority. His hair is all spiked up in different directions giving him a slight unkempt look but his eyes are piercing, and Harry honestly feels like he’s staring straight into his soul.

“Who the…. what… how the hell did you get in here? GET OUT!” His voice is stronger now and although the adrenaline is making him feel brave, his legs have shot up under his body, his back pushed hard against the sofa cushions. He stares at the man but he’s not saying anything. In fact, he’s not really doing much at all. The man is just looking at Harry, and honestly, he can’t decipher exactly what emotion is being played across his face. It’s just kind of…calm, his whole body is relaxed like he’s supposed to be here. Like he hasn’t just somehow broken into Harry’s house. Harry is panicking now, ideas of a crazed fan running through his mind, visions of a gun being pulled out of his pocket, ready to kill him.

“I’ve no gun, or any weapon for that matter, so you need not worry.” The man’s voice floats across the room and Harry notices how fucking lovely it sounds, which he realises is an odd thing to observe about someone who could potentially be about to kill him. Harry blinks, and he can’t understand why but he starts to feel calmer, an unexpected awareness that this guy’s intentions are good. It’s confusing, because he knows he has absolutely no reason to think this, but it comes as easy as breathing, and before he realises what he’s doing, he’s standing up, the height difference becoming obvious between the two of them.

“My name is Louis,” the stranger continues, not flinching one bit at Harry’s movements and Harry swallows as he lets the man’ voice wash over him. “I’m an angel and I’ve been sent by God to help you. He seems to think you are destined for many great things Harry, and although I am not all that familiar with humans and their emotions, your aura is worryingly non existent.”

Honestly, if Harry wasn’t so gobsmacked, he would be laughing right now until tears started to run down his cheeks because even if there were such things as angels, he would be the last person they would be sent to save. Instead he continues to stand awkwardly in front of the stranger… Louis, and just stares, his brow furrowed slightly. 

“What?” He blurts out eventually, bringing his hands up to scratch his scalp, his greasy hair sliding through his fingers.

Louis squints, leaning forwards a little to give Harry a better look. “God didn’t mention that you were deaf and you can clearly speak english so I’m not sure as to why you have just said what.” His comment is completely deadpan and Harry is wondering what the fuck he drank last night to be having a dream as weird as this.

“I’ve completely lost it haven’t I, actually gone out of my mind? I mean, it was inevitable I guess, can’t remember the last time I actually spoke to anyone. Are you my new imaginary friend, is this what this is? I’ve finally…” Harry stops because he feels a hand on his shoulder and it’s like the whole room just tilts, knocking him off balance and his whole body feels like it’s on fire, like he’s feeling five years worth of emotion in five seconds. Before he has a chance to process the plethora of emotions that he’s just been hit with, Louis has snatched his hand away again, holding it to his chest, his fingers curling in and out as if he’s just burnt himself, a micro expression of panic flitting across his face and then it’s gone. 

Harry whimpers and lets himself fall back onto the sofa, his legs buckling beneath him. He shuts his eyes, muttering to himself.

“This can’t be real, I’m just imagining things. Maybe I’m still asleep, maybe any second now I’ll wake up screaming and it will all go back to normal. I don’t…” Harry’s interrupted again by Louis’ voice calling his name, and it’s like an automatic response when Harry’s eyes flutter open at the command and he’s faced with the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Louis is stood in front of him, his jacket and t-shirt have been removed, and Harry wonders how he managed to undress so quickly. That’s not what has Harry’s mouth hanging open though. The cause is the majestic and beautiful wings that are elegantly stretching along Louis' shoulders and down behind his arms. The feathers look incredibly soft, grey and silver highlights shimmering in the dull light of the lamp on Harry’s side table. Louis isn’t looking at Harry anymore, his eyes cast down looking at his feet, and Harry swears for a second he can see a blush creeping along Louis’ collarbones and up towards his neck.

“Fuck, they’re beautiful,” Harry almost sighs, all the breath knocked out of his lungs and any feeling of fear is washed away. Louis burrows his eyebrows a little at that before lifting his gaze back to Harry’s face. 

“Do you believe me now?” He asks quietly, stretching his torso a little, causing the feathers to ruffle slightly, one gently working its way free and floating down, down, down until it’s settled onto the floor by Harry’s feet. Harry may be going mad right now, he may be imagining this beautiful angel in front of him, but really, what has he got to lose from putting a little faith into what he’s seeing? He realises that the answer is nothing and so he nods.

“Yes.”


	3. Conversations in the A.M

Harry only realises that he’s fallen asleep when it’s interrupted in the usual way, his voice piercing through the fog of the nightmare, his body reaching to the surface to drag in a lungful of oxygen. As he becomes conscious, however, he can still feel the hands gripping him, and a fresh wave of panic shoots through his body, shaking him awake. This isn’t how it works, he thinks to himself, his brain trying to understand why he can still feel the constricting grip of those hands pulling him into the room. His eyes flash open and there’s someone sat over him, blue eyes looking down on him with worry and fear and... pain? Harry thrashes underneath the body, trying to push him away, trying to get those hands away from him, tears starting to escape the corners of his eyes, his voice trying to scream but getting caught in his throat.

“Harry, stop,” the voice orders and his whole body just deflates, sinking back into his bed, which he fleetingly recalls not getting into. Harry whimpers as he feels the hands still, the fingertips gently applying pressure to his shoulders, grounding him until he can catch his breath and that’s when he remembers yesterday's events and his mind is filled with messy hair and soft feathers floating to his floor.

His eyes flutter open slowly, and Louis is all he can see. The angel is hovered over him, and he’s perched on Harry’s thighs, a leg either side of him resting on the bed. His hair is still sticking up in all directions, and his wings looks slightly ruffled, as if he’s been in a bit of a scuffle. He looks beautifully chaotic and Harry is only shook from his reverie when Louis' hands flinches away from any contact and the angel speaks again.

“Does that happen a lot? The nightmares?” 

Harry just nods and takes a few deep breaths, trying to sit up. 

"I uh... can you just..." Harry mumbles, and he can't stop the blush that's colouring his cheeks as he tries to ask Louis to get off of him. Louis frowns for a second before he understands and then he's all wings and apologies as he elegantly floats off the bed, landing silently on the floor, his wings ruffling back into position behind his back, his gaze trained to the floor.

"Thanks for waking me," Harry mumbles, his voice still rough from sleep, and then he remembers the confusion of waking up in his bed. "Did I come in here last night?" Harry looks around him, taking in the soft duvet, the unworn shirts hanging at the end of his bed, a sliver of light breaking through the gap in the drawn curtains.

"Uh, no. I carried you in here." 

Harry snaps his head in Louis' direction and he doesn't know whether to laugh or die from embarrassment. 

"I think the shock wiped you out. I went to get you some food because you couldn't tell me the last time you'd eaten but when I came back, you'd passed out on the sofa. So... I carried you to your bedroom so you could get a good sleep." 

Harry lifts his hand to his hair, feeling the disheveled bun nearly falling free from the hair band, so he pulls it out, letting his greasy curls fall onto his shoulders.

"Why?" Harry asks, looking down at his hands, stretching the band between his fingers. 

"Well, I didn't want to wake you and I thought it would be..."

Harry's shaking his head and interrupting before Louis can finish. "No. I mean...why me? Why have you be sent to help me? I haven't been to church in months, haven't even prayed. Why the hell would God bother with someone like me?" He looks up at the angel and he can feel his bottom lip trembling, tears burning the back of his eyes. 

Louis inches forwards and sits on the edge of the bed. "I don't question God's orders Harry and neither should you. He told me that you are destined for great things, that in your own way, you were put on this earth to change it in some way. The things that have happened to you weren’t in God's plan and now he wants to help you. He wants to help you achieve your full potential." Louis smiles at him and Harry feels in that moment like he would trust this angel with his life. No doubts at all. It’s like a weight has been lifted in an instant.

"O...okay," Harry nods. "Do you have a plan, because honestly, I have no idea how to fix this." He realises he sounds broken, sounds like someone who has given up and it honestly kills him to think he has gotten to that point. 

“Tell me what happened, Harry.” Louis says quietly and the ache in Harry’s chest is back. So much has happened. It's hard to even think back to a time when he didn’t have this dark fog surrounding him. He was once a happy kid, working in a bakery, surrounded by friends and family but now? Now he just feels empty and alone, cut off from everything that made him happy. 

“You don’t know?” And Louis shakes his head.

“God didn’t tell me anymore than that you are to be helped and I am to be the one to do that. I need to hear it from you Harry. I need to feel it, feel your pain and then from that, I will formulate a plan.”

Harry nods and falls back against the cushions, his head hitting gently against the wooden headboard as his eyes flutter shut and he’s back in the board room. He can picture it so clearly…

_The room is made up of four glass walls, clinical and exposing and he thinks to himself that those words describe the three men in suits sat opposite him pretty well. There are thick documents laid out on the oak desk with pens placed next to them. The room is silent until one of the men speaks._

_“I am from Modest management and we will represent you. While you are with Syco, you will be with us, and we will help you to become the popstar you want to be. Understand?”_

_Harry nods because that’s what he assumes he should do in reply to that question. He’s 16, and he’s never even had a proper interview before. His mum had got him the job at the bakery through one of her friends, and so this whole experience is foreign to him. He had no idea what to expect going into it and he feels like he’s just going with whatever they’re throwing at him._

_“There are a few things we need to make clear before we start this meeting Harry, a few rules that we have to ensure you comply with while you are with Modest.”_

_Suit number two passes him one of the documents, and Harry can now read his name in full across the front page, along with the Modest and Syco logos, a space for three signatures and a date and the words CONTRACT written across the top._

_“This is your contract, one that is binding and will help protect you and us while you are a client of ours.”_

_Harry looks down at it and then suit number 3 is slamming his hand on top of it, a forced smile across his face._

_“If you don’t agree with everything stated in this agreement, your contract with us and Syco will fall through and this will be over.”_

_Harry stares at the three of them, a lump forming in his throat. Shit. He wants this so bad, surely they know that? There’s no way he would do anything to jeopardise this opportunity._

Harry opens his eyes and looks straight at Louis, who is watching him so intently that Harry feels completely open like a door with no lock. He knows he hasn't spoken a word of that out loud but he can see from Louis face that he heard all of it. 

“And they did, of course. They obviously knew I would do anything to become a popstar. I signed the contract without really reading it. They did it without my mum knowing, knowing I was a vulnerable 16 year old who would do anything to live their dream. I signed into a 5 year contract, which included hiding my sexuality, pretending to fuck countless girls, going out drinking and then writing about it all. I’ve written songs about things that have never really happened to me. I’ve written about being in love with a girl when I’ve never even fancied a girl before. Everything I’m made to do is a lie and eventually, at some point that I can’t even place now, I broke. I finally just snapped. Nothing had substance and so I just spiralled because I had nothing real left to hang on to.”

Harry stops and he feels the tears falling freely now. It’s the first time he’s actually cried about this, usually turning to alcohol to numb everything instead. It feels amazing, the burn in his chest and the tightening in his throat. He feels fingers in his hair and when he looks up, he sees a flash of worry on Louis’ face again and he hates it. It doesn’t suit him, looks wrong on Louis’ beautiful features and Harry feels guilty for making him feel that way.

“Pass me that notepad,” Louis whispers, withdrawing his hand, letting Harry’s hair slip through his fingers and nodding to the bedside table. Harry wipes the back of his hand across his face, wiping away the tears, before he takes the empty notepad and gives it to the angel. Louis tears a sheet and then folds it, passing it to Harry. Harry frowns, opening the paper, his fingers trembling. What he finds on the inside is a list, written in a messy scribble not unlike his own. 

* Stop drinking.  
* Accept that none of this is my fault.  
* Call Niall, Liam, mum and Gemma and explain what has been happening.  
* Get out of contracts with Syco and Modest.

Harry lets out a soggy laugh and Louis gives him a confused look. 

“I don’t think this is a situation that calls for laughter, Harry. Honestly, I think I’m getting a handle on human emotion…”

Harry laughs a little again as he watches Louis ruffling his wings in frustration and if he fleetingly thinks that is one of the cutest things he’s ever seen, then that’s none of anyone’s business. 

“I’m sorry Louis, I just… I’ve wanted to do all of these things for so long, but… how? Some of these things are impossible.” 

“Nothing is impossible Harry.” Louis replies, smiling softly. “I am an angel of the Lord. With me, you can do anything, change anything. I’m here to make things possible.” Louis’ gaze flickers to the alarm clock next to Harry’s bed and then he’s standing.

“You should get some more sleep, it’s still early in the morning. I’ll be in the living room and when you wake up, we’ll start to fix this, okay?”

Harry nods, because suddenly tiredness is sweeping over him and he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. He settles down into his bed, pulling the blanket up over his ears and within a minute he’s softly snoring, fast asleep.

Louis knows he should leave, let Harry sleep in peace. He would hear him having a nightmare from the other room, no need to stay here, but for some reason he stays. He sits against the wall, his wings tucked neatly behind his back as he silently watches Harry breathe deeply into the most peaceful sleep he’s had for a long time.


	4. (With Your Love) Nobody Can Drag Me Down

_(August 2015)_

Harry’s standing outside of a very grand courtroom, staring at his list as reams of furious employees and representatives of Syco and Modest storm past him. He can feel the tears burning at the back of his eyes, and it takes all of his strength not to collapse to his knees.

The thing is, before the list and before Louis, Harry had no feelings of hope.

He’d felt like the whole world was slowing caving in on him, as if he was living on borrowed time, struggling to breathe, just waiting for the breath that would be his last. It scared him at first, knowing that he didn’t want to live anymore, knowing that if someone had told him that his next day would be his last, he wouldn’t even flinch, wouldn’t bat an eyelid. Eventually the fear of feeling that had turned into a worrying form of acceptance and the way he felt became his normality. He developed a suffocating comfort in feeling alone and sad and empty. It was all he knew and all he felt and so he became accustomed to it, found ways to “cope” because he felt like it was always going to be like this. There was never going to be a way out for him.

So when Louis passed him that piece of paper 4 months ago, he didn’t believe that things could change. In fact, he thought he had completely lost his mind, and he would wake up in a mental hospital after being sectioned because of his ramblings of “a beautiful angel told me everything would be okay!!”

But Louis stayed. In fact, he’s stood next to him right now, a hand on the middle of Harry’s back, telling him how well he’s done and how proud he is of how far Harry has come. And Harry gets that feeling like he always does when Louis praises or encourages him, like a fire is being lit inside his rib cage. It’s like he’s finally looking up, seeing the light that’s filtering through the water. He feels so close to the surface, the promise of being able to breathe again waiting for him and it’s Louis’ hand that’s reaches out, gripping onto him and finally he’s pulled to the top, taking his first freeing breath. 

It was the drinking that stopped first.

________

_(April 2015)_

Harry wakes up to the smell of food and it’s honestly so foreign to him that he actually sits upright, trying to figure out where he is that could be emitting such a wonderful smell. It only takes him a couple of seconds to remember that he has a guardian angel in his life now and that he’s probably the one cooking him something for breakfast. Harry smiles at the thought of an angel knowing how to cook bacon and eggs and as he pulls his favourite lilac knitted jumper over his head, he momentarily wonders how long it’s been since he’s smiled like that.

He plods bare foot into the living room, his sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips and dragging along the floor a little and he sees a pair of wings flitting around the kitchen, like he’s a five star chef who was just made to be making Harry breakfast on a Wednesday morning. 

“Morning,” Harry croaks, his voice still a little muffled from sleep. 

Louis twists round and he’s got a sheepish look on his face, his hair sticking up in all directions, a smudge of grease on his cheek.

“Oh, morning Harry,” he says quietly, turning back to the saucepan which is currently cooking a few rashers of bacon with a loud sizzle. “I hope you don’t mind but I’ve started breakfast for you. I went out while you were still asleep and did some shopping. Not sure I got everything you’d need but the woman started to get annoyed with me when she realised that not only did I have no idea where anything was in the shop, but I also had no idea what things were.”

Harry grins at that and imagines a confused Louis wandering around the aisles completely confused, picking up pints of milk and loaves of bread and staring at them like they were the weirdest thing he’d ever seen.

Harry eats and thinks to himself that it’s the best meal he’s had in a long time. He can feel his stomach groaning in appreciation and it scares him a little that he can’t remember the last time he ate a proper meal. He finishes the plate, draining the glass of orange juice and settles back into the chair, rubbing his belly.

“That was… amazing,” he sighs, a content smile on his face. Louis smiles back at him, a slight colour to his cheeks and Harry wants to tell him how cute he looks when he does that, but he refrains. Instead, he grabs his plate and glass and stands, making his way to the kitchen. Before he reaches the sink though, he stops, a soft “oh” escaping his mouth as he stares at the numerous bottles that are lined up across the work top.

The enormity of his problem hits him like a freight train.

“I wanted you to empty them yourself,” a voice says softly behind him, making Harry jump a little at the noise. His eyes flit from the whiskey bottle, to the vodka bottle, to the numerous beer and wine bottles. He can feel Louis standing behind him, and after a few minutes of nothing, he feels a hand gently resting against the middle of his back, not pushing or hurrying but reassuring, telling him it’s going to be okay. 

“Pour them away,” Louis whispers, a slight pressure behind his hand now. “You don’t need this Harry. This is the first step; stop drinking. You will see everything much more clearly without this.”

Harry nods minutely and then he’s rushing forwards, dropping his plate and glass onto the side before opening each bottle and pouring its contents down the sink. Harry closes his eyes and listens to the ’glug, glug, glug’ as the alcohol swirls around and down the plug hole. He doesn’t realise until he opens his eyes that he’s crying, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks, dripping into the sink. He can’t help but think how beautifully symbolic it is, of everything he is washing away in that moment.

________

_(May 2015)_

Louis watches carefully from a distance as Harry’s fingers run nervously across the screen of his phone, one knee bouncing up and down to a nervous rhythm. 

It’s been 3 weeks since Harry poured away all the alcohol that he had been keeping in the house and he hasn’t touched a drop since. Louis is proud of him, which is an odd emotion. He’s never really felt proud of anything or anyone before, and it feels like a pleasant ache in his chest that he can’t really describe out loud. He didn’t actually expect it to be that easy for Harry, but he can see that under all the sadness and despondency, Harry is strong. He honestly believes that Harry can do anything he puts his mind to and he’s reminded of God’s words to him.

_“He’s a human who is destined for something very great.”_

_“He’s special. He’s got the potential to inspire and touch a lot of people.”_

Louis realises he has never been so sure of anything in his whole existence but he can see every nerve in his body jittering now, and although his aura is minutely brighter than it had been the first time he’d seen him, it’s currently flickering, as if the thought of his next task is enough to completely wipe him out.

“It’s going to be okay,” Louis assures him with a smile when Harry looks up at him. “They love you, they’re going to be so happy that you’re wanting to talk to them again.”

Harry tries to return the smile but Louis can see the worry in his eyes.

“I… I know. I just… I don’t expect them to forgive me. I’ve been an awful son, brother and friend. I’ve pretty much failed at being all three of those in the past few years.” Harry bites at his bottom lip and Louis can see his eyes glistening with tears and he doesn’t even think about closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around the trembling boy. 

“Everybody deserves forgiveness Harry,” he whispers, and he feels it. 

He’d felt it the very first time he’d touched Harry, when he’d been trying to calm him down during their first meeting. Angels don’t scare easily, they are soldiers, warriors, accustomed to the most dangerous of situations, but the alarming jolt of what felt like electricity shooting through his hand when he’d touched Harry’s shoulder had left him silently shaken, terrified even.

He’d recoiled that first time, his hand flexing to his chest and clenching as the sensation slowly faded, leaving just a soft buzz in his fingertips. But it returned every time he came into contact with the human, and Louis was still in denial about what it all meant. Deep down, he knew it could only mean one thing, but he had a job to do, and whatever was going on between him and Harry had nowhere near as much importance as finishing his mission.

As soon as Louis wraps Harry into his chest, he feels the boy calm, his whole body relaxing into his touch and he can’t help but ponder on how nice it feels, knowing that he can help Harry so easily with something so simple as a hug. He loosens his hold a little and scoots across the sofa, giving Harry some room. He stays put while Harry calls Niall and then Liam, listening as Harry attempts an explanation as to why he’s been avoiding them recently. But Louis gathers quite quickly that the both of them have already picked up on what has been happening with regards to his record label and management, and neither of them are holding any blame towards Harry. Anne and Gemma’s phone calls go much the same, with added crying from Harry’s mum, ("Baby I love you, no matter what, don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to me, okay?") and a few insults thrown in for good measure from Gemma, (“You’re a bloody idiot, Harry Styles, don’t ever ignore me again or I’ll kick your door down and make you talk to me.”) and then it’s done.

Harry places his phone on the coffee table and finally flops back into the cushions on the sofa, his eyes fluttering closed as he feels a giggle break free from his mouth, the sound of it breaking through the air and surprising him enough to stop.

“Wow, I haven’t done that in a while,” he says breathlessly, looking across at Louis who is actually grinning.

_You should do it all the time because you looks so gorgeous when you do._

The thought flashes into Louis’ head before he can stop it and it’s all he can do not to let it slip carelessly from his lips. Instead, he just smiles, berating himself for letting that thought even enter his head. He stands suddenly and Harry’s looking at him with those big green eyes, worry creeping into them as Louis starts to back away to the door.

“I uh… need to go...somewhere. Need to make some plans for the uh… the next thing on the list,” and with that, he’s out of the door and Harry’s left looking at the space where his angel was stood a second ago, mouth open slightly and a confused look etched across his face. 

His angel.

________

_(June 2015)_

It’s been two weeks since Louis scuttled out of his door, stammering over his words. Harry had thought it was odd; the angel had always been so poised and calm, and there he was seemingly panicking and rushing to get himself away from Harry. He tries not to think about it too much, the reason for this change in character, because he’ll drive himself crazy. Instead he focuses on himself.

It’s beginning to get warmer outside, the sun showing itself a lot more, warming the streets of London and settling a warm blanket of hope over everything. Harry’s started running again, something he had loved doing a few years ago, before even the effort of getting out of bed was too much. He’s still sober too, and still talking to his loved ones. He’s doing well, even Harry can admit that, but he’s starting to think that he really did imagine Louis, which would be entirely catastrophic. And yes, Harry knows he has always been slightly (very) dramatic, but Louis’ departure at this point would honestly be nothing short of a disaster. There’s still one more, rather important thing on his list that he needs to fix, and without Louis’ help, Harry has absolutely no idea how that’s going to happen.

Harry is still trapped in the contract with Modest and Syco for another 6 months, December 13th 2015 being exactly 5 years since he signed the contract with them. He knows there is absolutely no way out of it, knows that they would have had the best lawyers go over and over the documents, making sure there would be no loop holes to catch them out if Harry decided to try and leave. He’d thought about it, the depressing truth that the only way out of the agreement would be in a wooden box. And even though he’s in a better place now, this is the root of the problem, the cause of the disease that’s been slowly killing him and without a cure, everything else is futile. He’s not sure he can last another 6 months and if he starts praying for the first time in years, it’s because Louis is his only hope of surviving.

Another week goes by and Harry is knelt by the side of his bed as he does every night, his hands pressed together in front of his face, his eyes screwed shut. His legs are starting to tingle, the beginning of numbness setting in from being sat for so long. He’s whispering one word over and over again like a chant. It's all he knows what to ask for. 

“Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis….”

“Harry?”

The voice makes him jump but instantly it's like every anxiety crawling under his skin just evaporates. Harry remains still, scared to open his eyes in case all he sees is his empty bedroom, the shadows taunting him. 

“Are… are you praying?” comes the voice again, closer this time. It’s coming from right beside him now and Harry can feel the heat from a body standing close. He finally lets his eyes flutter open, holding his breath. 

He looks up and all he sees is Louis and it's all he can do not to let his body fall forward to collapse onto the bed in front of him. His whole face crumples with the force of relief he's feeling and Louis’ down on his knees with him in an instant. 

“What happened? Are you okay? Did something happen?” Louis asks all rushed and panicked and Harry can see the concern in his face, his hands fisted together on top of his lap. 

Harry shakes his head, tears falling freely down his cheeks. “I th….I thought I'd imagined you. I thought...where have you been? You just left… “ Harry takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down because the sobs that are making his chest heave are kind of embarrassing. Except, Louis isn't looking at him like he's mad. He’s not twisting his face in disgust as he watches Harry fall apart. If anything, he looks devastatingly confused.

“I told you,” Louis says softly, his eyes wide as he tilts his head slightly to attract Harry’s eyes. “I needed to leave to make some arrangements for the next step on your list. I told you that.”

Harry brings his hands to his face, wiping away the tears and pushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels silly, heat creeping across his cheeks as he realises that yes, Louis did tell him that and that maybe, yes, he’d overreacted a little. But really, who could blame him? He’s building all his faith on someone who he didn’t even believe in a month ago.

“I thought I’d imagined you, and I was scared Louis. You’ve been gone for two weeks and I honestly thought I’d invented you. I could have done all the things I’ve done so far on my own if I’d really wanted to, but the stuff with Syco and Modest, I can’t do that on my own, and I was so scared that you weren’t real and now I was on my own faced with something that I just can’t fix and I…” 

Harry’s rambling is muffled as Louis pulls him into a crushing hug, and any words left in Harry’s mind are just pushed out his mouth as a whimper, his whole body weight falling into the angel.

“I’m sorry,” comes Louis’ voice above his head, Harry’s own pushed into the angel’s chest. “I didn’t realise you would think that. I had to go away for a while and sort some things out, so that we can fix things with your career. I should have told you I’d been gone for a while. I’m so sorry.”

Harry lets Louis’ voice wash over him because the combination of hearing it and feeling Louis means that he’s real. 

_He’s real, he’s real, he’s real._

And for the first time, he closes his eyes and thanks God.

________

The next few months change Harry’s life.

It starts with Louis giving Harry a number for a lawyer he’s never heard of before.

“She is one of the top lawyers in the world that specialises in music industry contracts," Louis explains, sitting himself down on the sofa next to Harry. “You need to tell her that you are trapped in a damaging agreement that is forcing you to hide your sexuality and is causing you to develop mental health problems. Oh, and that you never actually signed anything to agree to it.”

Louis says it so flippantly, Harry is nodding before he realises what Louis has said. He whips his head up quickly, frowning at Louis as the angel just looks at him, waiting for him to dial the number. 

“But I did.” He says simply, utterly confused and increasingly scared that maybe somehow Louis thought he hadn’t signed his life away as a 16 year old. If this was his plan then he was screwed. But Louis is grinning at him, a gorgeous bright grin.

“No you didn’t.”

Turns out having an angel on your side is a God send, literally and figuratively speaking. While Louis had been gone for those two weeks, he had found every single paper and digital copy of Harry’s contract. Being an angel came with a lot of benefits and being able to appear in any location he wanted without being detected was one of them. He’d erased every single signature of Harry’s, and without those, the contracts were useless. Harry’s new lawyer had started a case against Syco and Modest, and by the end of August, Harry is standing outside of the courtroom, Louis by his side (his wings hidden under one of Harry’s oversized jumpers), with the worst part of his life finally behind him.

Harry lets out a laugh that’s partly a sob, and he turns to Louis, a wet smile making his dimples pop and his eyes shine.

“I’m free,” Harry whispers and Louis stares in awe as a lilac glow begins to grow around the boy. It’s been slowly getting brighter and brighter every time they’ve ticked off something from the list, but now? Now, it’s the most gorgeous colour and is so bright that Louis has to squint his eyes a little to let them adjust.

Louis thinks he’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.


	5. (Love You) Goodbye

_ (September 2015) _

On paper, Louis’ mission is complete.

Harry hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol in five months, telling Louis proudly that he feels so much better for it, how he’s actually starting to feel his creativity crawling back from its long hibernation. One of Louis’ favourite things is to watch Harry curled up on the sofa, notebook on his lap, pen between his teeth before he suddenly starts scribbling ideas down onto the page. It’s honestly magical, like Harry was destined for it.

Harry is also in regular contact with his friends and family again. Only last week he had gone for lunch with his mum, where they had spent 4 hours just talking and catching up with one another. Anne had even commented that he’d gotten his spark back, and Louis couldn’t help but grin and feel a flutter of pride when Harry had told him. Gemma pops round too with junk food and films every so often, and they sit in their pyjamas watching romcoms that Harry laughs at until he’s crying. Gemma ruffles his hair and calls him a nerd but Louis can tell that she is relieved to have her brother back. Niall and Liam are well and truly cemented back into Harry’s life too and the three of them regularly hang out, although they avoid the pub now, favouring coffee shops or restaurants. 

The biggest change, however, is that Harry is now free. Free to be whoever he wants and write whatever he wants. It’s incredible to see the change in Harry, the way he walks so much lighter now, his shoulders pushed back and head held high. His whole body language has shifted into the posture of someone with confidence and happiness. Paired with his gorgeous lilac aura, he’s really a wondrous sight. Or so Louis believes, and he’s hardly ever wrong.

It’s the beginning of September, summer beginning to fade to make way for chillier nights and splashes of red, orange and brown. Louis loves this season the most, because it reminds him of all the things he loves about his own home. The smell of freshly cut grass, wet leaves squelching under food, the iridescent light shimmering down through the tops of the trees onto the ground. Louis chose to have seasons in his heaven too, but Autumn is always his favourite, and he’s so excited to spend his first one on Earth.

It’s early morning when he hears Harry stirring in his bedroom and he fights the instinct to rush to his bedside, knowing full well that Harry is probably just turning over or lifting the duvet a little farther to reach up his nose. He does that.

In the five months that Louis has been with Harry, he’s witnessed him endure the worst nightmares, watching as he thrashes around on the mattress, sweat dripping from his temples, his eyes screwed tight in fear. He’s seen Harry exhausted by them, shaking and sobbing until his throat was sore. Louis had seen everything and he hated it, wanting to do everything he could to make it better. And he did. He’d helped Harry to turn his life around, supporting him in those things he could fix himself and giving him a helping hand with those that he couldn’t. Harry is OK now - better than OK - he’s doing amazingly, and Louis feels so relieved that the nightmares have stopped and that Harry is at ease enough to drift into a peaceful sleep. So he stays on the sofa and waits for Harry to wake.

A few hours later Harry appears from his bedroom, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes sleepily before lifting both arms up to touch the top of the doorway, his whole body stretching and flexing as he lifts himself up onto his tip toes.

Louis tries not to look, he really does. He is an angel; his willpower is unbeatable. He prides himself on not being distracted or guided from his course, but right now? All he can process is how beautiful Harry looks in front of him. 

Harry’s pyjama bottoms are sitting low on his hips, obviously tugged down a little during his sleep, and as he stretches, his top slides away from the waistband, revealing a rather large strip of skin. Louis could see the lines of the muscle in his stomach, his belly button sat centre, a strip of soft looking hair trailing all the way down into his trousers.

Louis swallows, his human form betraying him as he feels a tightening low in his stomach.

_ No no no no no… This can’t be happening,  _ he says to himself, trying to tear away his eyes from that spot just above Harry’s waistband.

“Morning Lou,” Harry mumbles, completely unaware of the turmoil running through Louis’ brain that’s just increased at the sound of Harry’s nickname for him. Harry walks straight past the angel and goes into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle and popping two pieces of bread into the toaster. He turns back and slowly walks over to Louis on the sofa before letting himself fall onto it, tucking his legs underneath him as he snuggles into the cushions. 

“I want to go out today,” he says simply, looking at Louis. Louis turns his head in response, returning the gaze. 

“Okay. You don’t need my permission to leave the house Harry, you are obviously free to go wherever you please. Are you going to see your mum? Or Gemma? Or maybe some friends? It’s a lovely day out, I’m sur….”

“No,” Harry interrupts, and a small smile creeps onto his face along with a reddening of his cheeks that spreads to his ears.

_ Cute. So, so cute.  _ It’s at the front of his mind before Louis can stop it. 

_ Damn. _

“I want to go out with you...oh, wait, I mean…. shit no, that came out wrong….” Harry bites his bottom lip as he cringes and pushes his face further into the sofa cushions, the red deepening and spreading all over his face. He takes a deep breath before trying again.

“I meant, I’d like to go out and do something with you, something fun. I’m thinking you’re not gonna be around forever, probably lots of people like me that need help and so I just wanted to say thank you I guess, and get to say a proper goodbye with something that we won’t forget. Or, that I won’t forget anyway.”

Louis looks at the faint look of sadness that has settled onto Harry’s face and he realises he has never wanted to say so many things before that he knows he shouldn't. It’s like a billboard in his mind, comments whizzing by one after the other as he tries to stop them from shooting from his mouth.

_ I want to do something fun with you too. I’d spend all my time doing fun things with you if only just to see you smile. _

_ Yes I will have to leave but I’ve been trying to not think about that. _

_ No one comes close to being like you, Harry. _

_ I’ll never forget you. _

Instead he just smiles and nods. “I’d like that.”

________

Louis knows that when the time comes, he will have to return to Heaven. God will call on him and he will have to leave Earth and Harry, and ultimately try and move on.

Move on.

It doesn’t slip past Louis that he’s using terms from the many romantic novels he’s read back in Heaven. He’s aware that he feels something for Harry, something more than he ever should have. But the fact that he knows he will have to return to his home reassures him that keeping all of this to himself is for the best. Opening up about anything he is feeling about the human will only end in sadness, and if anything, Louis refuses to bring that upon Harry.

So he spends the next few weeks enjoying Harry’s company. They travel back and forth across London, visiting Harry’s favourite places and experiencing the feeling of being a tourist, because apparently that’s what everyone should do when they visit London for the first time according to Harry. Harry smiles and laughs and radiates an infectious kind of happiness that Louis can’t ignore even if he tried. He watches as Harry grows more and more each day, like a fumbling fawn, unsure and scared of it’s surroundings, transforming into an elegant and majestic stag, confident and fearless. It’s overwhelming for Louis to see and he feels like he’s physically holding in the ever growing fondness he has for Harry, his whole being quivering with the force of it. He’s not sure he can hold it in much longer.

________

Harry knows the day he has been dreading has arrived the minute he sets his eyes on Louis. 

They’ve just returned back from a picnic in Hyde Park, their feet sore from walking through the greens all day, their bellies full from the delicious food that they’d made up and packed that morning. The sun had shone all day, warming their backs and creating a beautiful sunset that they’d watched until the light had faded into the horizon. They’d walked to the underground, side by side, their arms touching constantly as the buzz that surrounded them fizzled, noticed but unspoken.

“I’ll just pack away the picnic things,” Louis calls out to Harry as he makes his way into the kitchen. 

Harry collapses onto the sofa, closing his eyes as he nods in response, letting the day replay in his mind. It’s been one of his favourites and he can’t deny that Louis has been the metaphorical cherry on top of the cake. Everything seems so much more enjoyable with the angel around. Every day things feels so much more momentous, trips to Harry’s favourite places feeling extra special, a golden shine on everything Louis touches or encounters. Harry takes a deep breath, plucking up the courage to tell Louis just that, when he opens his eyes and sees the angel stood in the kitchen, completely still, his eyes closed and his eyebrows pushed together, creating a deep crease that Harry wants to instantly flatten out with his finger.

Harry watches quietly, holding his breath. He can feel the panic seeping through his bones, wrapping itself around his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. Louis looks like one of those marble statues, his features held in the most beautiful static pose, his eyelashes softly feathered across the tops of his cheeks. His arms are held in front of him, his hands gently crossed. Harry wants to run over to him, kiss every single part of his face, make him move, make him human again but Harry’s reminded with a blow that Louis  _ isn’t  _ human. He’s an angel and he’s never hated that fact more than he does right now.

Harry’s about to leap from the sofa when Louis jolts awake, his eyes finding Harry instantly. His whole body sags, sadness washing over his face and all Harry can do is shake his head whispering  _ no no no  _ under his breath.

“I’m sorry Harry,” Louis says, and he already sounds so far away, so distant. Harry wants to reach out and grab hold of him, pull him close so that he doesn’t leave. Harry’s about stand up, speak, do  _ something _ , but he freezes as Louis peels off the jumper that he’d borrowed from Harry, allowing his wings to stretch free, the feathers ruffling and making the most beautiful sound in the quiet of Harry’s apartment.

Louis looks across at him and he’s smiling, and Harry is sure there are tears in his eyes but he doesn’t get a chance to check. With one powerful beat of his wings, Louis is gone. No warning, no proper goodbye. They hadn’t spoken about what would happen when Louis was called back to Heaven, neither of them wanting to bring it up because of the sad look on the other’s face when they did. Harry brings his knees up to his chest, closing his eyes as tears burn at the back of his eyes and he lets the inevitable sobs bubble up to the surface. 

For the first time in a long time he sleeps on the sofa, letting the tears fall one by one down his cheeks.

  
  
  



	6. If I Could Fly

 

_ (November 2015) _

Everything is so quiet. The trees aren’t moving, the sky still, the clouds lazily hanging with nowhere to go. The leaves lay silently on the ground, creating a beautiful autumnal blanket that Louis wishes he could bury himself under. There’s no excited chatter or infectious laughter. There are no sounds of the television humming in the background or the hesitant plucking of strings on a guitar. There are no soft sounds of someone sleeping, turning over in bed or yawning as they wake up.

Two months have passed and the painful ache in his chest has yet to subside, it’s claws still wrapped around his rib cage. 

As he sits on the swinging seat outside of his small hut, he takes a deep breath, blowing the air out slowly through his nose as he closes his eyes. It’s all too much and Louis hates it. Hates that he’s here and Harry isn’t. Hates that he didn’t get to say a proper goodbye or a chance to explain. Hates that they didn’t talk about it before it happened. Louis furrows his brow because he’s never felt like this before, never experienced the sadness and regret and hate that he feels now. He watched Harry for the first few days after returning to Heaven, but forced himself to stop, realising that it was just making the pain worse. Louis has no idea what he’s doing anymore. He feels lost and confused and so alone.

“Hey Lou,” comes a soft voice from beside him, instantly recognisable to Louis. He peeks open one eye and turns to see Zayn sat next to him on the bench, staring at him.

“Hello,” he replies, a lack of emotion in his voice. 

“You’re in love with him aren’t you?” and it’s so blunt that Louis almost chokes on nothing at all, both of his eyes opening to stare back at his brother, his eyebrows raised.

“Wh… what?”, Louis stutters, his face burning up from a mixture of embarrassment and panic. “No! I mean, what… I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” Louis huffs, standing from the seat, making his way back into his hut. Zayn follows close behind and Louis knows he can’t stop him, knows he’s in trouble now because Zayn  _ knows _ . But how? How does he know when Louis’ only started to come around to accepting it himself?

“I saw you,” Zayn continues, completely calm and unaffected by Louis’ flustered response. He follows his brother into the hut, watching as Louis flicks his fingers at the fireplace, causing a spark which creates a crackling fire, warming through the slight chill that Autumn has bought along with it. Zayn waits a second before continuing, staring at the back of Louis’ head.

“I saw the moment you first touched him.”

The fire isn’t working. Louis feels a sharp chill run through his entire body and he wraps his arms around himself. He clenches his eyes shut and drops his head.  _ No coming back from that,  _ he thinks, and so he turns, his eyes opening as he sees Zayn still looking at him and he’s got a look on his face that makes Louis feel nauseous. 

“But, it can’t be, he’s  _ human _ , Zayn. It… how can that even be true?” Louis moves to sit down in a little nest of cushions that are near to the fire, his hands coming up to run through his hair, leaving it sticking up in a riot of different directions. Zayn’s next to him in a heartbeat, his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. 

“It can happen,” Zayn whispers. “It’s unbelievably rare, haven’t heard of it happening for thousands of years but it’s possible.”

The room is so quiet and Louis wants to scream, or throw something, or bury himself in the cushions, because how is that fair? How is it fair that this happens to him? He’s good, a good angel who always follows orders and completes his missions, no matter how big or small. He’s caring and loyal and this is how he is repaid?

“I’m sorry Lou, but I could tell that you knew straight away, and I could see how much you cared about him.” Zayn’s voice is calming and Louis is so thankful for his brother in that moment that he could cry.

“He’s just, the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. He’s so kind and smart and loving. I spent hours just watching him, noticing all the little things he does, like scrunching his nose when he’s trying to compose himself, or running his hands through his hair when he’s nervous. I saw all those things and every single one of them made me care about him even more until…” 

Louis takes in a shuddery breath, focusing on his hands, his fingers fiddling in between each other. 

“Until I realised I was in love him.” Louis feels his body sag and it’s like a weight has been lifted from him, the relief of voicing it washing over him. He looks over to Zayn and he’s smiling, but that look of pity still lingers on his features.

“Kind of inevitable seeing as he’s your soul mate Lou.”

Louis nods and he can feel tears welling up in his eyes, just like they had when he’d been seconds away from leaving Harry. It’s such an odd feeling, one he’s only read about in books but never experienced himself. All he knows is that the two times it has happened, he’s felt this huge emptiness in his chest, as if his heart has upped and left, leaving behind the ache that only seems to be gripping tighter.

Louis had known that Harry was his soulmate from that very first touch. It was undeniable, the tell tale sign of that first burning contact, his fingers feeling like they were on fire. He’d heard tales of and witnessed so many angels finding their soulmate this way, both of them flinching from the initial pain but falling into each others arms when they realised they had both felt it. He’d panicked at the time, pushing it to the back of his mind so that he could focus his efforts entirely on getting Harry better, and he was all too well aware that Harry hadn’t reacted at all. The pain subsided the more he touched Harry and the scalding feeling was replaced with a fluttering in his stomach, his pulse racing and his whole body feeling like it was conducting electricity. He was in love with Harry. Harry was his soulmate. The crushing fact that he might not be Harry’s was devastating.

“So what are you going to do?” Zayn asked, and Louis would laugh if he wasn’t feeling so close to crying. 

“What do you mean? What  _ can _ I do? I’m in heaven and my soulmate is on Earth. I’m an angel and he is a human. I don’t even think he feels the same way. He didn’t flinch when we touched for the first time, there’s no way I’m his soulmate.” 

Zayn sighs, turning his body to Louis.

“Lou, human’s are different, you know that. I know it’s not as easy to figure out, but they aren’t as obvious as us. They don’t get a physical sign when they meet their soulmate like we do. It’s all so very subtle for them.” 

Zayn’s eyes are kind as he slowly smiles at his brother, taking his hand into his and squeezing it tightly.

“Do you trust me?”

Louis furrows his brow in confusion but nods anyway. Of course he does. He is his brother. He trusts him with his life.

“Well, trust me when I say I know humans, have worked with them for thousands of years. I’ve seen every emotion, every reason for a smile or a tear or for someone's heartbeat to increase, and I know what love looks like. I know the signs, and Harry was pretty much screaming them at you. He wanted to tell you but he was scared. Scared of you coming back here or not feeling the same.”

Louis is just staring at Zayn with disbelief, his mouth hanging open slightly as he takes in his brother’s words. Maybe he’d just been completely ignorant. Maybe Harry had been trying to tell him but Louis was so concerned about his mission, so concerned that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. Maybe it had been there the whole time Louis had been wishing for it.

“What do I do?” He blurts out, gripping Zayn’s hand. “How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know Lou, but I know someone who might.”

________

Louis’ sat surrounded by cushions, his favourite blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His fairy lights are casting twinkly shadows across the wooden panel walls of his hut and the fire is still flickering softly in front of him. Zayn had left a few hours ago, giving Louis the tightest hug possible and telling him it would be okay. Louis had nodded and watched him disappear, before lowering his head and calling on God.

No angel has ever visited God. The rule is that if you require guidance, you must pray, like humans were expected to down on Earth. So Louis did just that, because Zayn was right. If anyone knew what to do it would be God. 

Louis heard him before he saw him, a loud but graceful  _ swoosh _ . He felt the whole hut shiver from his presence. 

“Hello Louis, how are you?” God’s voice echoed, his words filling Louis with a sense of calm  that he so desperately needed right now .

“I’m…. I’m okay. I need to speak with you.”

Louis’ voice sounds small and he hates how the emotion running through his body right now is affecting it, making it sound wobbly and unsure. He’s an angel, not used to feeling this way and he’s got no idea how to control it. As he looks up he can see in God’s face that he knows something is wrong.

“Louis, something is bothering you, you must tell me if you require my help.”

Louis nods, takes a deep breath, standing up from the nest of cushions, fluffing out his wings a little.

“I need to go back to Earth,” he begins, but God holds his hand up, effectively silencing him.

“Before you go any further, I know exactly what you’re going to say.”

Louis’ mouth hangs open in shock, his heart lurching in his chest.

“You….you do?” Louis is stuck between feeling relieved and terrified, his whole body starting to shake. 

“It’s normal Louis, to feel this way after a mission that involved such a close bond with the human you were working with. In fact, Zayn was the same after his first Earth mission. He wanted to go back and visit them, make sure they were okay, explain why he had to leave. I understand I do, but you can’t Louis. You’re mission is complete and there is no reason for you to return. Do you understand?”

The silence is deafening and heavy and Louis feels like he’s going to be crushed by it. God is looking at him, waiting for an accepting nod or a simple “okay”, but he can’t. Harry’s worth fighting for.

“But… you don’t understand… I lo…”

“STOP.” God’s voice reverberates around the hut and Louis is surprised that it’s even still standing, a few books toppling from the piles and the windows rattling in their frames. He clamps his mouth shut, his fists balling at his sides as he wills the tears not to fall.

“I am sorry Louis, but this is not going to happen. You are needed here in heaven to complete the duties that I set for you. If you cannot let this go then I will have no other option but to punish you. Am I making myself clear?”

Louis nods, biting his bottom lip between his teeth to stop it from trembling.

God nods once and turn to leave, hovering by the door and giving Louis one last look.

“Harry is fixed Louis, it’s over,” and he’s gone.

Louis lets his legs give way, his knees colliding with the wooden floor with a sickening crack. He can’t stop the tears now, running wet streaks down his cheeks. 

Louis knows God is right. Harry  _ is  _ fixed, but he’s never felt so broken in all his existence.


	7. Never Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The fic has gone from teen and up to explicit. Enjoy :)

_(December 2015)_

Harry wakes up, his whole body feeling warm and cosy, his toes stretching to the edges of the bed as he slowly drifts up and away from his heavy sleep. He’d been dreaming a dream so lovely that he feels annoyed at the sudden end to it. Harry keeps his eyes firmly shut, trying to preserve the flickering and fading images of brown messy hair and deep blue eyes. He tries to turn onto his stomach, like he does every morning but something is stopping him. His body is hit with a surge of panic, as he feels the very apparent arm around his waist tighten.

Harry tries to think, tries to remember the night before. He doesn’t remember going out, doesn’t remember doing anything but sitting on his sofa with a chinese and a soppy film about two people falling in love, defeating all the cliche obstacles that stood in their way. (Watching that had been a mistake, because he’d ended up sobbing into his chow mein like some kind of heart broken teenager.) His night had definitely ended with him being alone.

“Morning baby,” a voice mumbles from behind him, it’s deep timbre sending shivers down Harry’s spine. He twists in the hold that is around him and his whole view is taken up by disheveled hair, caramel skin and blue eyes, all three colliding to create a chaotic beauty that leaves Harry speechless and breathless. Harry goes to open his mouth, to say something, anything, but Louis cuts him off.

“I missed you so much,” he practically purrs, and Harry has to close his eyes to compose himself. Louis slowly raises himself up onto his elbow, gently lifting a leg up and over Harry’s body. Harry goes with it easily, lying back into the pillows as he watches the angel straddle his hips. Louis’ whole body stays close, his arms bracketing Harry’s head, his shins tucked in closely to Harry’s sides. Harry feels like he can’t breathe, like it hurts too much to even look up at the beautiful impossibility that’s above him.

“I missed you,” Louis repeats, lowering his head and tucking his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry feels him take a deep breath and he can’t help but relish in the heat that’s pooling in the bottom of his belly, hot and delicious and intoxicating. He wants wants wants so bad that his vision is dizzy from it.

“I just wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking about you,” Louis murmurs in between pressing his lips to Harry’s neck, making his way down to his collar bone. “I’ve been thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you, how I wanted to make you feel good, make your body feel good.”

Harry lets out a moan as he feels Louis’ teeth make contact with one of his nipples. His hands finally spring into action, coming up to dig their way through Louis’ hair, his fingertips scratching gently across Louis’ scalp. He’s rewarded with teeth and tongue against his other nipple, and he’s starting to feel like he can’t hold on any longer. He needs Louis to do something to make good on his intentions.

“I… I missed you too,” Harry breathes, his knees pushing up so they are touching Louis arse, feet pressed down into the mattress and that’s when he finally realises that Louis is completely naked. He hears the whimper try to float from his lips and into the air but it’s suddenly trapped by Louis’ lips. Louis’ hands wrap around Harry’s face, his thumbs pressing into his dimples as his tongue licks across the seam of Harry’s mouth, requesting for him to open up and let him in, let him taste and explore. Harry lets him without a second though and they’re finally kissing, their saliva mixing, joining them in a way that Harry’s thought about over and over since Louis left.

Louis pulls back and Harry wants to tell him how beautiful he is. How fucking wonderful and majestic he is. How he’s the most angelic thing he’s ever seen, literally and figuratively. Instead he just stares up at him with a complete look of awe on his face and Louis smiles. Harry knows Louis knows. He doesn’t have to say the words out loud to convey it. Louis kisses him once more, soft and sweet and then he’s shuffling down the bed, under the covers and out of sight. Harry is about to pull him back up because he wants to look at him some more, but he immediately changes his mind as he feels Louis’ fingers delving under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them up and over his cock, which is embarrassingly hard already.

Harry hears a hum and in the next beat, Louis’ mouth is on him and if he sends a prayer up to heaven, he cannot be held accountable for the complete inappropriateness of his actions.

Louis’ tiny hands are gripping onto Harry’s hips for dear life, and the pressure is divine, making it all the more exciting that Harry can’t move, which is probably for the best because the urge to fuck up into Louis' mouth is nearly irresistible.

“Fuck… Lou that’s…..uhhh my god.” Harry’s not making much sense and really he can’t be blamed considering Louis is blowing him like a fucking pro. Harry had never considered the angel's sexual history or competence, but he feels like he would have underestimated him if he had. His lips are tight but soft, giving just the right amount of pressure as he slowly lifts up the whole way and then sinks back down, humming in the back of his throat every time his nose touches Harry’s lower belly. It’s driving Harry insane, and he can’t help but push his hands under the duvet, letting his fingers trail into Louis hair and down across his face. He can feel Louis’ cheekbones where his cheeks are hollowed out, his fingers pressing into the little dips there. Louis lifts off once more, sucking and licking at Harry’s head, paying careful attention to the sensitive vein on the underside before going back to dip his pointed tongue into Harry’s slit.

“Lou I’m… I’m close… please,” Harry begs as he starts to feel his thighs trembling, the heat in his belly slowly working it’s way down to his cock. His whole body feels light and electric. He feels like he’s sinking into the mattress and floating above it all at the same time, Louis his anchor bringing him back to the centre, making him feel so, so good just like he promised.

Louis sinks down one last time, taking Harry the whole way before swallowing around the head of his cock, and that’s all it takes for Harry to start coming, pulsing down Louis’ throat. Harry shouts Louis’ name, because that’s all he knows, all he can feel, the only person who’s ever made him feel like this. His whole body is spasming as Louis holds himself still, taking everything Harry has to give him.

There’s a beeping sounds somewhere in the distance, slowly permeating through the fog that his orgasm has created around him like a warm blanket. He shudders, the last of his orgasm rocking through him and he suddenly feels Louis pull off with a plop and the beeping gets louder.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

“Fuck!” Harry shouts as he sits up in bed, the alarm on his bedside table blaring out the persistent tone. Harry pushes back the duvet, disappointment already creeping into his body. His eyes look for the angel that had just been buried under the covers but all he finds is his rather ruined boxers half hanging off his hips, come soaked into the fabric and splattered across his belly. Harry groans, letting his body fall back against the pillows as he takes a deep breath, trying not to dwell on the fact that he just dreamt about Louis, the angel who practically saved his life, giving him a blow job.

________

It’s the middle of December and it’s bloody freezing. Harry’s wrapped himself up in a long black coat and an even longer maroon scarf that’s twisted around his neck so many times he can hardly breathe. He slips a beanie over his hair before stepping out into the madness that is London at Christmas time. It’s not snowing yet, but the sky is shining bright with snow clouds, and Harry groans at the thought of his ridiculous bambi legs flailing around at the hint of ice on the pavements. He’s never been very co-ordinated at the best of times, and he’s lost count of the times he’s fallen on his arse because of nothing at all. He’s chosen to wear a pair of boots that has the most grip, but he’s not fooling himself that that will be enough to save him from hitting the ground faster than you can say snowflake if it’s start to snow.

He makes his way to the tube station, grumpy shoppers already laden with shopping bags filled with presents and rolls of wrapping paper. Harry is famous, crazily so actually, but sometimes he likes to just walk through the streets of the city he calls home, even if it does mean he gets mobbed sometimes. Luckily for Harry, most Londoners right now are too invested in finding that last toy on the shelf or getting home out of the cold, so he goes unnoticed. Harry shoves his gloved hands into the pockets of his coat and dips his chin down into his scarf as he miraculously finds a seat on the packed carriage. He digs his iPhone out of his coat and pushes the buds into his ears, flicking through his music library for something to listen to. He’s absorbed until he feels someone knocking his feet as they walk past. His head whips up instinctively, ready to grumble under his breath but that breath is instantly knocked out of him as he sees the back of Louis walking away from him towards the doors. Harry’s whole body goes into shock, his stomach twisting in knots and his throat closing up as he struggles to accept what he’s seeing. Before he’s had a chance to process it, he’s up on his feet, pushing his way through the passengers.

He shouts Louis’ name but Harry can’t see him anymore and now he really starts to panic. He’s not really thinking things through, all he knows is that he can’t let him slip through his fingers again.

He jumps off the tube, just making it before the doors close. He twists his head back and forth, searching along the platform and then he spots him, standing to the side of the escalators. Harry runs, his whole body tingling at the thought of Louis being back, Louis coming back to Earth. He finally gets to the angel and grips at his shoulders, breathing his name again as he turns to face him.

It’s not Louis.

Of course it’s not. Looking at the man now, Harry can see that his hair is the wrong shade of brown, more mousey than the golden tone that Louis’ is. He’s too tall too, nearly the same height as Harry, but the biggest giveaway is his eyes. Burning amber is staring at him where ocean blue should be, a slight tinge of panic in them as he steps back away from Harry.

“Shit… sorry.. I thought…” Harry mumbles, and then he sees the all too familiar look of realisation cross the man’s face as he recognises him.

“Hey, aren’t you…”

Harry turns and runs, tears burning at the back of his eyes. He makes his way back to the platform to continue his journey, and he’s glad when he sees the door open ready. He gets back on and tucks himself into a corner, pushing his face back down into his scarf as he wills the tears not to fall down his face.

________

Gemma’s sat in their favourite spot, right at the back of the coffee shop in a small booth. Harry can see she’s got that look on her face that means he’s in trouble, but he can’t blame her. He’s late, and she hates it when he’s late. It could possibly have something to do with the one time he didn’t show up to one of their coffee dates last year, which was the start of Harry never turning up to anything.

“Finally! Where the hell have you been?” Gemma asks, her eyebrows high on her forehead as she drops her book onto the table in front of her. Harry thinks it’s adorable that she actually still carries books around when she’s always writing about how amazing technology is.

“Sorry, I uh… got stopped on the way. Fans.” Harry mumbles, hating the fact that he’s telling his sister a lie. The truth would be much worse though.

“I don’t understand why you insist on taking the tube,” Gemma shakes her head, putting the book back into her satchel. “Do you understand how famous you are?”

Harry laughs softly, shrugging off his coat and unwinding his never ending scarf. “I like it. Makes me feel normal.”

Gemma laughs and Harry loves it. It always makes him feel at home when he hears that laugh.

“You’ve never been normal sweetcheeks, no point trying now.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at her and she leans forward, ruffling his hair like he’s 7. He doesn’t hate it as much as he should.

They sit there for hours, drinking black coffee with sugar, talking about everything from Gemma’s job at the marketing company to Harry’s thoughts about getting a dog. It’s easy and nice and it’s everything Harry needs after the last few months. As Gemma begins to tell him about this lovely boy who’s just started at her company, a lovestruck smile plastered across her face, Harry can’t help but let his mind wander to the lovely boy _he_ can’t stop thinking about. Except he’s not a boy, he’s an angel, and right now he’s so far away that Harry can’t even begin to comprehend it.

He wants to tell Gemma. Wants to tell her everything. He knows she wonders what happened back in the Spring when Harry had gone from hiding away in his apartment to being the bubbly and happy boy he was before. (Well, as close to before as he could be while he’s been pining for something he can’t have.) Gemma never asks though, just looks at him with this mixture of confusion and wonder in her eyes that Harry likes to pretend isn’t there.

“Are you listening to me?” Gemma cuts into his thoughts, prodding a finger at his chest.

Harry blinks, looking up at his sister who is staring at him. “What? Oh, shit… sorry. Just... got a lot on my mind.” Harry runs his hand through his hair, clearing his throat as he lifts his cup to drain the last sip of his coffee.

Gemma crosses her arms and rest them on the table, staring at Harry with that look in her eyes that tells Harry she can see straight through him. Shit.

“Whoever the hell he is, please just tell him, for all of our sakes. I am so sick of talking to you when you’re clearly daydreaming about some boy.”

Harry just blushes and gapes at her with his mouth open. Gemma just rolls her eyes.

________

Harry makes his way home unharmed, which is a miracle in itself because the clouds have finally given in, causing the lightest of snow to flutter down across the streets of London. Once inside, Harry puts the kettle on, intending to spend the rest of the day on the sofa with a cuppa and his notepad. He waits for it to boil, thinking back to what Gemma had said. When the thought had just been burning away in Harry’s own head, he’d been able to convince himself it wasn’t real, that what he was feeling was just him feeling lonely or dramatic. But when it’s being reflected back at him from someone who knows nothing about the situation, it’s harder to ignore.

The kettle flicks off the boil, the apartment falling into silence and Harry’s left with the undeniable fact that he’s in love with Louis and has been for the last eight months and nothing is going to change that.


	8. I Want To Write You A Song

_(January 2016)_

Whoever said a broken heart was good for songwriting was telling the truth. Harry was currently surrounded by scraps of paper from an old diary he had found, his notepad already full. Christmas had been and gone, bringing presents and food and family with it. He’d spent it back home with his mum and Gemma, and he’d almost managed to forget anything outside of his family home and the warmth it always bought him. Harry loved Christmas. Loved that it was an excuse to spend a whole day in your pyjamas in front of the television. This year was a little different, as he didn’t touch a drop of alcohol, and he actually spent it with those he loved. Well, most of them anyway. If he settled at the edge of the bed every night to whisper a prayer that ended in _‘I love you’_ , then no one needed to know.

January has crept upon Harry with it’s icy mornings and gentle snow fall and Harry feels a renewed sense of regret settle over him that he never managed to tell Louis how he felt. He knows all too well that it was because he hadn’t realised, or hadn’t wanted to accept his feelings, but boy are they there in full force now. His first thought every morning is the memory of Louis’ voice, the way it would float through his apartment wherever he may have been. The smell of cooking coming from the kitchen and the way Louis would give him that soft smile every time he’d walk out from his bedroom, following the aroma to the angel. And then just before Harry falls asleep, the second before his body goes under, blue eyes and chaotic hair float into his mind and dreams of silver wings and small hands filter into his subconscious.

Harry stares around the living room, a sad smile flickering across his face. He picks up a few pieces of paper, rereading the lyrics that he’d written so quickly, so eager to get his feelings out of his head and onto paper, that he can hardly decipher them.

 _If I didn't have you there would be nothing left. The shell of a man who could never be his best._ _If I didn't have you, I'd never see the sun. You taught me how to be someone._

_And now I'm one step closer to being two steps far from you._

_All I know at the end of the day is you love who you love, there ain't no other way._ _If there's something I've learnt from a million mistakes, you're the one that I want at the end of the day._

_I've got scars, even though they can't always be seen and pain gets hard, but now you're here and I don't feel a thing._

_Hey angel. Tell me, do you ever try to come to the other side?_ _Hey angel. Tell me, do you ever cry when we waste away our lives?_

The words swim pleasantly around Harry’s head and he’s got that excited buzzing under his skin that he gets when he knows he’s writing something worth keeping. They’re not quite songs yet, but he’s got at least two notebooks full of lyrics that are straight from the heart, painful and longing. Harry smiles again at the thought of there being an album in there somewhere.

________

When Harry hasn’t been running pens dry scribbling out lyric after lyric, he’s been thinking about Gemma’s comment from their last coffee date. It’s been running through his mind over and over, and he can’t seem to make it stop, no matter how much he tries.

_Whoever the hell he is, please just tell him, for all of our sakes. I am so sick of talking to you when you’re clearly daydreaming about some boy._

Harry huffs, remembering the horror he had felt seep through him when he realised just how transparent he was being. He’d never been good at hiding his emotions; they always managed to escape no matter how hard he tried to keep them deep inside, away from judging looks and comments like Gemma’s. It seems he isn’t getting any more skilled at that as he gets older.

If only he could just talk to Louis. All he needs is two minutes to blurt out everything he’s feeling and then maybe he would feel better. He knows it’s selfish, knows that putting that all on Louis for him to then have to go back to Heaven is unfair, but it’s starting to make him go stir crazy, like he felt when he didn’t leave the house for weeks.

That’s when the idea hits him.

He jumps up from the sofa, grabbing his coat from the back of the door and hastily makes his way out of his apartment, heading towards his only hope of a light at the end of a tunnel that he feels like he’s been pacing in for months.

________

It’s cold, bitterly so, and Harry had not considered this when he’d run out of his apartment with just a thin coat on. He’s currently stood surrounded by crunchy frost covered grass and numerous grave stones that have long been forgotten. He stares up, the wind blowing his loose hair around his face. He lifts a hand to push it away, his cold fingertips brushing against his cheek as he blinks away the tears that have suddenly gathered at the corners of his eyes. He feels such a sense of anticipation now, standing in front of this building that he barely even recognises anymore. He feels as if his chest could collapse in on itself just from the weight of the idea of what he’s about to do.

When he’d first moved to London, he had come here all the time, so much that it was almost like a second home. He’d visit when he was feeling sad, lonely, happy or just when he wanted to feel like he belonged somewhere. It had always been somewhere he had felt safe in a city that had more often than not felt alienating.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the cold January air hit his lungs and then he’s walking down the cobbled path towards the old Church.

He pushes both of his hands against the wood and slowly lets the door creak open into the room. It hits him like a train, the feeling that he’d somehow forgotten. It feels like peace and tranquility and it’s like every worry he’s been harbouring for the past 5 years is just packaged up into a box with a neat little bow and tied to a balloon to float away. Harry lets a smile flicker across his face before the anxiety kicks it way back into his conscious and he’s all nerves and anticipation again.

The church is empty and Harry has never been so relieved to be alone. He’s only here to talk to one person.

He picks a random row of pews to settle into, somewhere near the middle of the church. He takes a moment just to look around, letting the beauty of the building overwhelm him. It’s not a huge building, just big enough for about 100 people to fit into, but Harry’s always been in love with the floor to ceiling stained glass windows and how they cast a myriad of hazy rainbows across the floor. Harry remembers seeing that as a sign when he’d first come to visit. He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath as he leans his head a little forward, letting his hand press together and settle in front of his face.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his voice hardly a whisper. He knows he doesn’t have to say this out loud. If Louis can hear him through his prayers then all he has to do is think it, but somehow, he needs to hear himself say this out loud. He needs to hear himself admit to everything he’s feeling.

“I’ve prayed to you every day since you left...and this is my last try Lou. If you don’t answer me now, I’ll know that you never will.” Harry knits his brows together, trying to holding it together. He shakes his head, composes himself and carries on.

“And…. and that’s okay. I know so little about you, about what you do, so for all I know, you may not be able to talk to me. Maybe after each mission, your memory is wiped. Maybe you even don’t exist anymore.” He’s been trying to ignore that nagging little idea for too long and hearing it out loud now is enough to break Harry’s heart.

“But if you are still there Lou, if you can hear me, I just want you to know that I am irrevocably in love with you. I owe my whole life to you and in the few months that you were with me, I fell for you completely. I… I don’t know if you felt the same, I don’t even know if you _can_ feel the same for me, but if you felt anything, please, I’m begging you, just let me know you felt it. Please don’t leave me here not ever knowing. I feel like not knowing is going to kill me.”

Harry’s voice breaks on the last word and it’s like the dam breaks and every tear he’s been holding back is set free, rolling down his cheeks and making his chest ache with the force of it. He sits there, his whole body shaking and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop.

He does. He finally makes his way out of the church and back to his apartment. The days pass and nothing happens. Louis doesn’t float down on a fluffy white cloud, wings spread with his arms open wide. He doesn’t appear to Harry in a dream or wake him up one morning hovering above his bed. The silence is deafening and as Harry sits at his coffee table after another restless night’s sleep, remembering that first morning when they had sat and had breakfast together, he finally admits that Louis isn’t coming back and that he probably never felt the same as Harry did. Harry lowers his head, holding it up with his hands as he laughs at himself. When had he ever been so lucky that an angel would fall in love with him?

________

A sigh echoes through the skies of Heaven as God takes his eyes away from the scene that has just been playing out in front of him. One of the archangels rushes to God’s side, his head bowed, awaiting instruction or question. God closes his eyes and runs his hands across his forehead.

“I need to speak with Louis,” he commands, his voice unusually quiet. Before he can look up to check that he’s been heard, the angel has disappeared, only the sound of his wings beating indicates that he was ever there. God looks back down to Earth and watches Harry walk from the church, his sobs echoing through the graveyard that he’s trying to stumble through to get away from the church. God watches as he wraps his arms around himself, his cheeks stained with tears, his whole body practically curled in on itself.

“God?” Louis’ voice cuts through the quiet of the garden and God feels a feeling of regret ebb through him that he hasn’t felt in so long.

“He loves you.” He states, his eyes flickering back to the vision before him. Louis follows his gaze and the colour drains from his face when he sees who it is exactly that God is talking about.

_Harry. His Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry…._

“As you are with him.” God continues, standing slowly from the chair made from vines that he’s been seated on.

“Am I correct?” God asks. He’s looking straight at Louis now but Louis can’t drag his eyes away from the vision. Harry’s aura is almost gone and he looks so _sad_. Louis wants to hit something.

“I am sorry Louis. I had no idea this was genuine. Many angels have come back from their missions on Earth telling me they are infatuated with their human. A few weeks later they are apologising to me, telling me I was right and that now they were back in Heaven, the feelings had gone. It is something that seems to affect angels, something that the humans hold over you, but I’ve never ever seen the human reciprocate those feelings.”

God turns back to the vision of Harry walking quickly towards his apartment before he continues.

“You still have these feelings for Harry?”

Louis lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and he can feel the tears slowly rolling down his face as he nods.

“Absolutely. Undeniably. He’s my soul mate. I felt it with him, the burning, the spark. He’s my one.”

God’s eyes widen but he nods in understanding. Louis holds his breath, the air between them static with the apprehension of what is going to be said next.

“Then I advise you to say your farewell to your brother. Once I send you back, you will not return Louis. You will become mortal, a human, and Heaven will no longer be your home.”

Louis feels a jolt of panic at the thought of never seeing Zayn again and then he feels a hand grip his wrist. He turns and sees Zayn by his side, his large doe-like eyes looking down on him.

“Don’t you dare say no to this because of me,” he says with a strength that Louis knows is covering the wobble that’s in his voice. “You deserve to be happy Lou, and Harry is the person who will give you that.” Zayn squeezes his wrist and then pulls him into a bone crushing hug. When he pulls back, Zayn is grinning a wet smile, his hands coming up to quickly wipe away the tears.

“Go,” he urges, nodding.

Louis looks back to God and just nods, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He would sacrifice anything for Harry and as God places a hand on his shoulder he remembers the promise he made to himself the first time around, that he would get Harry’s aura back if it was the last thing he ever did.

He had done it once, he would do it again.


	9. Home

 

Harry has always hated the thought of people seeing him as a quitter. He’s always hoped he’d be someone who people would look up to, someone who could fight until they had nothing left, and maybe that’s where he is right now, at the point where he’s given everything he has. The fact of the matter is, he’s given up hope of Louis ever coming back and so he tells himself to move on. Tells himself to write this album, release it, and let every feeling that is held within the songs go with it.

Because what other choice does he have?

________

Harry is curled up in his armchair, a cup of tea swirling steam up into the air, a blanket wrapped around his knees. He’s always liked to have the heating as low as possible, enjoying the feeling of wrapping up all cosy, while watching old disney films that remind him of lazy Sundays with his mum and Gemma. He’s currently on the phone to Liam, having their weekly chat. Harry’s spent the last 15 minutes telling him about his new album, Liam barely getting a word in edgeways.

“I think I have the final track listing, I’m so excited for you to hear it Li!” Harry’s voice is edging on hysterical, his tone light and airy in his excitement.

“I know Haz, I’m so excited to hear it too.” Harry can hear the smile in his friend’s voice and it makes him feel so lucky to have people that are proud of him in his life still.

“So there’s this one song that I’m super excited for you to hear, I’m sure I’ve told you about it. It’s called Hey….”

A sudden crash in the kitchen makes Harry flinch violently, his heart rate suddenly spiking as his mind jumps into action, his eyes locking on the doorway into the kitchen.

"Harry? What the bloody hell was that?” Liam asks, a hint of worry in his voice. Harry swallows, fear creeping into his bones. He’s always been scared of living alone, of someone managing to break in and steal his stuff or try to hurt him. Gemma always teases him for it, but he’s heard stories of things like that happening to famous people, and Harry has always been anything but naive about how disliking a celebrity can make someone do something terrible.

Harry slowly pulls the blanket away from his knees, untangling his legs so that he can stand. He fleetingly thinks this puts him at some advantage, but then he remembers how bloody clumsy he is and he think that maybe he should just sit down and accept his fate.

“I think someone is in my house Li,” he whispers down the phone, slowly creeping to the doorway to the kitchen. Everything is silent again now, and all Harry can hear is Liam saying “oh shit” and his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He only manages to take one more step before something… someone, is stepping out in front of him.

“Hello.”

________

Harry isn’t sure if this is real, or if he’s somehow been killed and he’s now in heaven. It feels as if his mind has completely shut down, his body giving up on him and falling into a state of shock because of the person that is apparently standing a meter away from him. He can hear shouting, but the person’s lips aren’t moving, and that’s when he’s shaken from his daze by the realisation that he’s still holding the phone to his ear, and Liam is almost definitely having a panic attack at the thought of Harry being murdered by some crazed burglar. 

Harry’s eyes stay locked on the person opposite him, his voice low and strained like he can’t quite catch his breath. “I...I’m… I’m fine Li. Sorry, just.. I’ve got to go,” and with that he hangs up and lets his arm drop to his side.

“You’re not real. I’m just imagining you,” Harry says softly, his voice wobbling with emotion that he’s sure will end in tears. He can feel the burning behind his eyes and the heaviness in his chest already and he knows he has little power to stop them.

“You know, you said that the first time you met me,” Louis replies, a sad smile sitting on his lips. “When are you going to start believing that I’m real?”

Harry would laugh at that if he wasn’t in such a state of shock, because he’s spent the last four months fighting with himself over Louis’ existence, to the point where he had honestly began to think he’d imagined him completely. He’s gone through so many stages of belief and disbelief and now Louis is stood in front of him, asking him a question that has nearly destroyed him.

“I didn’t want to leave you Harry, I promise you that. If I could have orchestrated this in any other way, I would have. I’ve witnessed how upset you’ve been, in the few days that was able to watch you from Heaven, but my hands were tied. I pleaded with God but he wouldn’t lis…”

“I prayed to you.” Harry whispers, his voice devoid of any emotion. He watches as Louis’ shoulder sag, the crease between his eyebrows deepening as he face falls a little and for a moment, Harry lets himself really look. Somehow, the Louis in front of him is different, but Harry can’t quite put his finger on it and all he can think is that this is just a fragmented memory that has been scraped from his mind. The thought that he might ever forget what Louis looked like is terrifying.

It’s slower than Harry remembers, and it startles him when he can actually witnesses Louis walking towards him rather than the angel just appearing next to him with a dramatic  _ swoosh _ . Harry hears himself let out a little gasp and then Louis’ arms are around him like a cage and he feels every fibre of his being give in, his body falling into the embrace. He want to lift his arms up to wrap them around Louis’ back, feel his wings and run his fingers through the soft downy feathers that he’s dreamed of so many times since Louis’ disappearance, but Louis’ arms are locked around him. Harry closes his eyes, feeling Louis’ breath on his neck, warm and comforting. 

“I heard every word you thought and spoke Harry, and please believe me when I say I wanted to reach out and reply to every single one,” Louis finally pulls back, but his hands drop to Harry’s and before Harry can question it, their fingers are intertwined and Louis is speaking again.

“As an angel, it was not my choice. I had no say in the matter. I spoke with God, tried to explain how…,” Louis pauses, and Harry wants to hug him again because he looks so nervous. “..how I  _ feel  _ about you, but he told me to dismiss it, that it was common for an angel to have feelings for a human in their care. He said it would go away but... it didn’t.”

Harry blinks and imagines he looks like a deer caught in headlights. “How you...feel? About me?” 

Louis nods. “Yes Harry. How I felt every single moment I spent with you, from that very first time when I touched you. Angels have this...reaction, when they meet their soulmate. It’s hard to describe but I think you would understand it best as a burning sensation at the point of contact. The first time an angel touches their soulmate, they feel it, and with time it begins to fade, but you still get that electricity. That never goes away.”

Harry is really struggling to breath now. He’s pretty certain Louis has just admitted to having feelings for him, and now he’s explaining about soulmates and if Harry doesn’t sit down in the next 10 seconds, he’s pretty sure he’d going to end up on the floor. Louis seems to sense this too and so Harry willingly lets himself be guided to the sofa, both of them sitting, their bodies angled towards each other so their knees are gently touching. Harry likes it, even if it’s contributing to the whole struggling to breathe situation.

“Are you feeling okay?” Louis asks, looking at Harry with worry etched across his face and that feeling bubbles up inside Harry again, the feeling that something isn’t quite right. 

“You’re different,” Harry blurts out, and he knows he’s right by the reaction it gets from Louis. He looks sad but also like he’s itching to tell Harry something.

“I’ve got something to show you actually,” Louis announces, standing up from the sofa and Harry has to hold back the whine of protest at the loss of contact. He wants to make grabby hands at Louis, make him promise that he’ll never leave again, but instead he sits still, hands in his lap, looking up at Louis expectantly.

When Louis begins to pull his tshirt up and over his head, Harry frowns, confusion and curiosity washing over him. Honestly, his head is so fuzzy, it’s hard to even focus on Louis, let alone trying to decipher why he’s currently stripping in front of him. Harry’s about to say something, ask what on earth he’s doing when Louis turns.

Harry audibly gasps, the atmosphere in the room crackling as if the walls are made of electricity. Harry’s mouth is hanging open, his eyes wide in horror as he stares at the deep black ink that travels along Louis’ back in the design of two beautiful wings. They span across his whole back, the feathers almost life-like, reaching all the way down to the base of his spine. Harry can’t stop himself as he stands, his legs taking him to within reaching distance of Louis. 

“Wha….what are these?” Harry whispers, as if raising his voice would break through the dream that this could only be. As Harry reaches out to touch the ink, Louis turns and takes Harry’s hand into both of his, his smaller hands encasing Harry’s larger ones. 

“They’re my wings Harry,” Louis answers simply, and Harry just frowns.

“No they’re not, they’re just… they’re not real.” Harry feels the tears threaten behind his eyes again, and he starts to feel panic surge through his body, a combination of frustration and fear. “Where are your wings?”

“Listen to me Harry, you have to understand that you are the most wonderful and complex creature I have ever come across. I knew from the moment God showed me a vision of you, I knew you were going to have an impact on my life that I couldn’t even comprehend. Then I met you and it just hit me like a shooting star you know? You came out of nowhere and just set me on fire with one look. I am completely loyal to you, completely dedicated to caring for you and loving you. I knew you were my soulmate from the very first time I touched you, and every moment after that just had me falling in love with you piece by piece.”

Louis takes a deep breath while Harry just stares back at him. He’s not moved an inch, his hands still sitting inside Louis’.

“God finally accepted out connection. After seeing you at the church, he realised that you felt the same, and so he offered to me my freedom.”

Harry feels his chest heave and then a loud sob echoes from his mouth, the tears streaming freely down his cheeks now. “Your…. your freedom? What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve left Heaven for you Harry. This is the only way I can be with you, you understand? As an angel, I cannot be with the person who I know is my soul mate. So, God cast me down from Heaven, and with that I lose my wings.” Louis gestures to his back, a small smile on his lips. “These are my substitution.”

“But Heaven is your home Lou, I can’t ask you to…”

“You’re not asking me to do anything. Yes, Heaven was my home, but that was before you. You’re my home now Harry. Wherever you are is where I want to be.”

After years of people taking what they could with no concern for the damage caused to him, of being lied to and manipulated to the point of not knowing who he was anymore, Harry can’t be blamed for being completely overwhelmed at the idea of an angel giving up his wings just so he can be with him. He wants to do so much, scream, cry, laugh, but none of it seems close to explaining the chaos of emotions that he’s feeling, how Louis’ actions make him feel loved and adored and wanted. So instead, he leans forward, pressing his lips to Louis’, and he prays to God that Louis understands just how in love with him he is. 

_ Hey angel, do you know the reasons why we look up to the sky? _

_ If I didn't have you there would be nothing left. The shell of a man who could never be his best. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic and stuck with it even when I haven't updated for ages! It's my first time writing something like this so all the comments and Kudos are very much appreciated. I'm thinking of possibly doing a sequel so let me know if you'd like to read about how Louis copes with living on Earth and how Harry explains this new boyfriend to his family!


	10. Sequel - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally got this part finished! I'm going to post a three part sequel, so this is part one! I hope you like it!

The suns streams through the crack in the curtains, and Louis can feel the warmth of it on his cheek as he wakes. His face is currently pushed rather comfortably into a feather stuffed pillow, a crumpled duvet wrapped around his waist. He takes a deep breath, stretching his feet out, hearing his ankles click and his toes touch the brass end of the bed. He doesn’t get that rush of realisation as to where he is because he knows full well. The only thing he ponders is how strange it is to have woken up from a night spent sleeping, his first in the many years he has been alive, and how lovely it is to be faced with a head full of curls splayed across the pillow next to him. 

He gently shuffles forward, wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist, pushing his nose into his hair and lifting his leg over Harry’s hip. He’s much smaller than Harry, but it became immediately apparent that Harry likes to be the little spoon when he’d turned and shuffled his way back into Louis last night. Their first night. Louis feels a huge grin creep onto his face as he feels Harry begin to move.

“Morning,” he says softly, pressing a kiss into Harry’s hair. It’s so soft and warm and he can’t stop himself from breathing in the scent of the apple shampoo that Harry loves, every sense being invaded by the boy he’s sharing a bed with. 

Last night had been lovely. After Louis had explained himself and Harry had stopped crying, they’d sat together on the sofa, watching television together just like they had done before Louis was sent back to heaven. It had felt like he’d never been away, apart from the death grip that Harry had kept on his hand the whole night. Louis had been confused when he’d started to yawn, and Harry had giggled and told him he was getting tired. Louis hadn’t really considered all the things that came with being human, but he just nodded and let Harry lead him to bed. They’d crawled under the duvet together and within minutes they were both fast asleep. Louis couldn’t even remember the moment he had drifted.

Louis feels Harry stretch too, and then he’s turning over, his sleepy face smiling and looking at Louis like he’s the most amazing thing that Harry has ever seen. Louis smiles back and leans forward a little more, pressing his lips to Harry’s before he gets too nervous to. He doesn’t know what the “right” thing to do is on Earth in any situation. He’s become accustomed to a few things in the time he spent with Harry, but there is so much for him to learn. Harry’s response is everything he had hoped for though, and before he knows what’s happening, Harry has lifted himself up and over Louis, a leg either side of his hips and he’s being kissed hard and passionately into the mattress. Louis lifts his hands to rest on Harry’s soft hips, the skin just above his underwear is warm and smooth and he can’t help but dig his fingertips in a little, letting them roam across Harry’s hips, back and stomach. He could spend a lifetime just touching Harry like this, getting to know every inch of his skin and it’s only when Harry grinds his hips down a little that Louis stops, his whole body going still. Harry stops kissing him and opens his eyes, a wary look in them that Louis doesn’t like. 

“Was that too much?” Harry asks, his voice a little rough from sleep. Louis frowns a little, because he’s not sure what Harry means. Louis has a general understanding of sex but he’s never experienced it. Angels have no need for sexual relationships and so the question hangs in the air like a helium balloon about to pop.

“Lou? I need you to talk to me. Did you… did you like that?” Harry sounds nervous, like he’s not sure if he’s just upset him, and Louis needs Harry to understand what’s happening here.

“Angels don’t have sex,” he replies bluntly, and then he feels his face heat and he guesses he’s blushing. Brilliant. “I mean, I know what sex is. I understand...how… you know… how it works and all. I just, I’ve never been involved in anything like that.” Louis huffs a little at how ridiculous he sounds, but Harry is already kissing along his jaw and down his neck and any feeling of embarrassment ebbs away.

“Is it something you want to do?” Harry asks him between kisses, and Louis almost melts into the sheets. Harry's voice is so low and sweet and it makes this feeling unfurl in Louis’ lower stomach that makes his every nerve end tingle.

“I want everything with you Harry,” Louis breathes, his hips lifting slightly as one of Harry's hands roams over his stomach, his lips slowly making their way down his neck and chest. 

“I missed you so much,” Harry says quietly into Louis’ skin. “I dreamed about you every night. Sometimes we were just sitting on the sofa together, or having a picnic in the park.” Harry pauses, lifting his head a little. “Sometime we were in bed together, kissing and touching and it was the worst thing to wake up and reach out and realise you weren't there.” Louis sees Harry's face fall a little and he doesn't think twice before grabbing at his arms and pulling him up, kissing him with a promise. 

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I promise I'll never leave you again. I missed you too, you have no idea.” Louis holds Harry close and that's how they stay for the rest of the morning, enjoying the heat of each other's bodies and the feel of the other next to them in bed. 

It's another week before things progress. Harry is very wary of making a move on Louis, but it's driving him a little insane. He keeps thinking back to how good it felt when he had been on top of him, all warm and up close, their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together. It's the little things that are driving Harry crazy, like the way Louis always stretches as he walks into the kitchen, showing a strip of soft tummy that Harry wants to bite and lick at until it's covered in red marks. Or the way Louis constantly blushes when Harry says something nice to him, or how often Louis will just come up to Harry and kiss him for no reason at all. All of those things combined, culminate in what Harry does next. 

Louis finds himself pinned up against the kitchen wall on a particularly rainy Sunday afternoon, Harry breathing heavily into his neck. 

“Wh...what are you doing?” He huffs out, his voice a little affected from being winded against a hard wall. 

“I swear you're doing it on purpose,” Harry whines, his face pressed into Louis’ neck and his whole body pressed forward so they're touching. 

“Doing what?” Louis couldn't be more confused right now. Was Harry attacking him or something? Had he annoyed him or upset him? Louis swallows. It doesn’t feel like he’s annoyed… more… frustrated? 

“I cannot stand to watch you dancing around our kitchen in just your underwear anymore. I'm a strong person but this is asking too much.” Harry leans back a little as he finds Louis’ eyes, a pained smile on his face. “You're so gorgeous and I want you so badly.” He makes that point clearer by pressing forward more, and if Louis didn't notice just how much he wanted him, then he would have been an idiot. 

“Our kitchen?” Louis blurts out, and Harry stares at him incredulously. 

“What?!” He asks exasperated, his brow furrowed and he accepts his fate that this boy is going to be the death of him. 

“You said, you can't stand to watch me dancing around our kitchen.” 

Harry smiles and feels like his heart is going to explode. 

“Yes baby. Ours. It's all ours. Everything I have is yours.”

The next few seconds is a blur of Louis pushing up and into Harry's lips, and Harry grabbing at every part of Louis he can. After a few second of kissing, Harry wraps his arms around Louis waist and lifts him, allowing Louis to easily wrap his legs around his waist. It’s like they've done it so many times before, the way they naturally fit together like two puzzle pieces. Harry carries Louis to the bedroom, their lips only breaking when Harry throws him down on the bed. The impact pushes a giggle out of Louis and he blushes instantly, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. 

“No no no… don’t..” Harry crawls onto the bed, climbing over Louis and pulling his hand away from his mouth. “I love your laugh and when you blush. Fuck… I love you. Everything about you. Love you so much.” Harry lowers himself down and slowly kisses Louis again, his tongue exploring Louis tongue and teeth, just tasting and feeling him. Kissing somebody has never felt so exciting and intoxicating. 

“I...I love you too…” Louis manages to say between breathless huffs. Harry is quite literally taking his breath away and just as Louis starts to wonder if he’ll ever be able to breathe normally again, Harry pushes himself away so he’s sat on Louis’ hips. Louis can’t help the whine that escapes and the way his bottom lip pushes itself out into a sulk. Having Harry’s body weight covering his like a safety blanket and the loss of it makes Louis flounder.

“Shh...I need to take my clothes off love. You’re a little ahead of me in that department.” Harry smiles and nods to Louis’ underwear...well, Harry’s actually. They were going to have to go clothes shopping at some point. Louis watches as Harry peels off his tshirt and then shuffles his bottoms off his hips. Louis can feel an itch under his skin that he knows can only be satisfied by Harry’s hands and so with an impatient huff, he pushes them off quicker, helping Harry to pull them entirely off. Harry grins, lowering himself back down.

“Don’t worry angel, I’m going to make you feel so good, I promise.” And that’s all Louis needs to hear. Harry slowly kisses his way down to the top of Louis’ underwear, and all Louis can do is watch as Harry’s mouth slowly licks and kisses across his skin. What feels like an eternity passes before he feels Harry’s fingers tuck under the elastic, and then the fabric is being pulled down, and Louis groans as his cock hits the air, his head falling back and his eyes closing at the sensation.

“Jesus Lou, look at you,” Harry moans, and Louis can’t help but look back down. His eyes bulge a little at what he sees. 

“Is…. is that okay?” he asks, his voice trembling a little. He’s never seen it look quite like...that. His cock is red and hard and it’s practically hitting Harry in the face.

“Baby, it’s perfect,” Harry says with wonder in his voice, and before Louis can respond, Harry’s tongue licks from the base to the tip in one long strip.

“Fuck!” Louis practically screams, his hips canting off of the bed with force enough that Harry has to push himself away a little.

“Holy shit….you’re so sensitive,” Harry breathes, his hands coming to rest on Louis’ hips, fingertips massaging.

“So...sorry, I...that felt in...incredible.” Louis stutters and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

Harry nods and pushes himself up the bed so that he’s lying next to Louis. His eyes are soft and Louis can’t help but get lost in them a little, even in the heightened state that he’s in now.

“Maybe I’ll just use my hand this time, take it slowly. I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed by anything, okay?” Louis nods and then Harry’s hand wraps around his cock and it’s like he’s flying again, his wings lifting him from the ground, weightless and floating. He feels Harry’s hand start to move, feels his breath against his neck and Louis wants to cry over how good it feels.

“Okay baby? This good?” Harry asks, kissing Louis’ neck and face, comforting and reassuring and Louis would attempt to reply but every time he tries to speak it just results in a moan. 

It doesn't last long. Louis pants and whines and his hair sticks to his forehead from the sweat. His hands scrunch up into fists over and over and the feeling in his stomach grows hotter and stronger with every twist and pull of Harry's hand. 

“You're close angel, I can feel it. It's like I know your body so well already.” Harry kisses Louis’ neck, sucking a bruise right in the centre of it and with one last twist Louis shouts and comes all over his stomach and Harry's hand. He can't even articulate to himself how good that felt, better than anything he had felt as an Angel. However, Louis is, to put it mildly, absolutely mortified. Was that supposed to happen? He thinks he can remember something like this in the books he had read but it's so hard to be sure without actually experiencing it. 

He keeps his eyes closed, his chest flushed and heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't want to open his eyes, doesn't want to see disappointment or disgust in Harry's eyes. He can hear Harry breathing next to him, feeling his hand move away and then Harry's on top of him, kissing him out of nowhere. 

“You….are….incredible…” Harry pants out between kisses and a warm realisation hits Louis that whatever just happened was okay with Harry, and that's all that really matters.


End file.
